Twilight of My Youth
by Heath07
Summary: SLASH Ryan has learned to survive but at what cost? AU Taboo. Language. Sexuality. [Complete.]
1. Prologue

Title: Twilight of My Youth

Author: Heath07

Rating: R -SLASH, taboo, dark, language, sexuality

Summary: AU--What if Ryan hadn't met Sandy and came to know the Cohen's a different way? Ryan has learned to survive but at what cost?

Disclaimer: Characters and certain lines belong to Fox, Josh Schwartz and a bunch of other people that aren't me. :(

Notes: DO NOT read this if you don't like slash or if you're easily offended.

The title comes from the Ryan Adams song "Anybody Want to Take Me Home."

I have most of this story mapped out. It's not going to be too long (at least I don't think it is). lol I guess it depends on how people respond to it. This is only the prologue, subsequent chapters will be longer. Yeah, uh...just, don't ask. Don't hate me. lol

Prologue

* * *

Seth had driven past this place a dozen times. At least. It was far enough away that no one would see him and close enough to pretend he'd spent an few hours at the local comic book store so his Mother wouldn't worry. Each time he'd chicken out and turn around, heading back to Newport and the security of his mansion walls. But this time...this time he was determined to go through with it.

He was horrible with girls, he knew that. But that had more to do with the fact that he'd never really found one to talk to rather than his personality or some weird facial abnormality or bad body odour that made him unappealing. And he liked girls, he did. He just couldn't make them like him back. He wasn't the type of boy to go around looking for hookers, but tonight Luke had called him a fag in front of the entire school at the Pep rally and Seth could see no alternative but to lose his virginity...or the very least, get some experience under his belt and prove everyone wrong.

After he'd gotten the courage to walk past Luke while the football players grabbed at him and the cheerleaders giggled, he'd sat in the car for ten minutes contemplating his next move. He couldn't go home, if he went home now his Mother and Father would know something had happened and he didn't feel like talking about it. So he turned on the ignition and headed on the highway...to Chino.


	2. 1

Iceworm- You're totally right! Huge cliche, huh? I just couldn't help myself. I'm so bad. :( lol Wounded Ryan is just too appealing to give up and in The Pilot I could so picture it. Thanks for the review. ;)

This is rated R.

Chapter 1

* * *

The music coming from the stereo was low; low enough to hear the pounding of his heart in his own ears. He took a deep breath and eased over toward the sidewalk until the car came to a rolling stop.

He waited and then made eye contact with the first person he saw. The boy, no older than eighteen, stepped forward-strutted forward if Seth was being accurate and leaned against the door. His fingers skidded along the exterior of the car, his mouth puckered in a most appealing manner. This guy knew what he was doing. Seth knew he was all ready in over his head. Heat spread through his body, flushing his cheeks.

"Hey," he said, his voice grainy, his eyes hidden under shaggy tufts of blonde hair. Seth had seen him before, patrolling the streets, a beautiful Spanish girl always by his side. He'd figured he was her pimp or something -that image seemed to coincide with all the movies he'd seen. He didn't see the girl now. Not that he could see anything beyond the boy's broad chest and wide shoulders. The sun, that had been behind him the entire drive to Chino, had abandoned him. It must have known the evil intentions in his heart.

Seth became aware of his senses as time slowed. The stretch of road was relatively quiet save for the occasional car speeding through accompanied by raucous hooting and horn-honking. A tin can rattled along in the street meeting its demise in a pothole and then there was no noise but his breathing and the breathing of the stranger in front of him. This realization brought him back to life and he found his voice.

"H-hi." He sounded like an idiot. The air was hot and smelt like burned rubber. He blamed his un-coolness on that -the fumes were getting to the part of his brain that controlled his charming personality. Shit, who was he kidding? He was a dork and was always going to be a dork.

Still, he gave himself props for having the balls to drive down to Chino on his own and actively seek out a hooker. If someone had told him this would be his reality a year ago or even a month ago, he would have said that they were crazy, but back then, he was sure of everything, sure he wasn't gay.

"So what's up?" The boy looked up then and right at Seth. Seth could see the unnatural purple and red skin around the boy's eye even in the dwindling light. A deep gash over his eyebrow was scabbed over beside an old scar.

"I've never done this before..." Seth said, struggling to get his words out. He should have rehearsed this part, but he hadn't been expecting someone like this to approach him. He scratched behind his ear-a nervous habit-and swallowed thickly. "And, well, I don't really know how this all goes. Do I say what I want or do you tell me or is there, like, a code?"

The boy took in a deep breath and the muscles in his arm flexed against the door panel. It was then that Seth noticed the wife-beater and that his arms were exposed, his wrist slightly bent, like it had been broken before and never got the chance to heal properly. The boy licked his lips, sticking a cigarette in his mouth and igniting the tip. He took a deep puff, his eyes squinting against the smoke, and then exhaled slowly inside the Range Rover. "Fifteen for a hand job; thirty-five'll get you a blow job and fifty for a regular fuck."

Seth couldn't take his eyes away from the sweat collecting in the dip under the boy's Adam's apple. He also noticed he had a cross around his neck and that, more than anything, made what he was doing seem all the more damning. He felt sick.

"I...I..." Seth swallowed hard, panicked.

"Well?" The blonde asked expectantly.

"Blow job," he all but whispered.

The boy pulled on the handle to get in. Seth's eyes widened. "What're you doing?"

The teen studied Seth. His eyes narrowed into slits and then relaxed. He stuck his fingers inside his mouth and whistled to a brunette wearing a barely-there skirt and showing more cleavage than Julie Cooper on a bad day. She sauntered over, her red lips thinning as she attempted to smile seductively. The boy whispered something in her ear and she looked at him and then at Seth and smiled.

"Okay," she said and Seth wondered what they'd talked about, but didn't dare speak. The boy opened the door and gave the woman a hand so she could manoeuver into the SUV.

"Hey, sweetie," she said and rubbed along his thigh.

Seth couldn't speak. "A shy one," she teased and looked at the other boy, winking. Jesus, he felt like he was eight years old. He squirmed in his seat.

From the corner of his eye Seth could see the boy looking at him, but he wasn't just looking at him like a normal person, he was looking _into_ him like he could see inside of him.

The woman-mid-twenties, with long brunette hair and a chipped bottom tooth-grinned at him. "Not here, hun," she instructed.

He started the car without even realizing it. He wondered if it would be bad manners to ask her to buckle up her seatbelt. Seth rolled his eyes just thinking about it, that was the least of his worries.

They pulled away and she directed him to an abandoned building a few blocks away. The parking lot was cracked and weeds were sprouting up from the toppled cement. A cat stepped in front of the car, its eyes illuminated yellow against the headlights. It stopped, watched them a minute and then scampered away.

Seth could feel her eyes on him, could feel her hand on his belt buckle and then his zipper being undone. He didn't look at her until she was easing him out of his boxers. His face felt hot and his stomach felt like it was being invaded -he imagined little aliens conspiring together to see how long it took him to throw up. "I don't think I can do this," he admitted, swallowing hard.

She frowned, her eyes sympathetic. Seth wanted to scream. It took him to a whole new level of loser-dom now that a hooker pitied him.

"Is this your first one, hun?"

Seth closed his eyes, let his head fall back against the headrest. "First time getting a blow job? or first time soliciting a hooker? either way, yep, I'd say pretty much everything about this right now is a first for me."

"Okay," she said, moving her hand. "Just relax, Kid."

Seth cracked open his eye and watched her retrieve a condom from somewhere between her breasts. Seth felt his stomach jump again. He hadn't even thought about protection. God, he just wanted this over.

He closed his eyes again and let his thoughts drift. The only thing that came into his head was that boy, the one with the scar. Seth tried to block him out, to think of something else. Summer. He could think of Summer...and Summer's breasts. Good. Yeah, that was working.

"Looks like we've awoken the beast," the woman said coyly. Seth didn't react, just kept his eyes closed tightly and tried to keep thinking of Summer. Summer, the girl that had called him queer as he walked by...

The woman was stroking him harder now, and he could feel her rolling the condom onto his shaft. He hissed. It didn't feel good, not like he wanted it to.

She sucked him and licked and took him into her mouth, scraping the underside with her teeth. They were sharp and he worried she'd break the condom with her snaggletooth, leaving him with some nasty disease he wouldn't be able to account for when he went to his pediatrician to find out if he was in danger of losing his penis a month from now. The quicker it was over the better.

Fuck it. He pictured taut skin encased in a white wife-beater because he couldn't think of anything else. Seth felt the pressure build in his groin, felt his balls tighten.

"What's his name?" he asked knowing he was about to come.

She stopped what she was doing and looked up at him, her mouth still wrapped around his cock.

"What's his name?" Seth asked again, desperate. He clenched his jaw tight.

She pulled off of him, making a rude slurping noise. "Ryan," she said and took him into her mouth again.

"Ryan," Seth said quietly, gripping the steering wheel and coming hard.

The woman pulled the condom off, tied it up and chucked it out the window. Seth rested his head on the steering wheel and began to shake all over.

"Hey, hey, you all right?"

"What?" Seth asked, moving his head so he could look at her but staying in the same position for the most part.

"Are you okay?" She asked and she looked a little frightened. She probably thought he was going to beat her or throw her out of the car without payment. Seth wanted her to stop looking at him like that.

He lifted himself up and pulled out a fifty and dropped it into her lap. "I'm sorry, do you mind walking back?"

She looked at the crisp fifty and then back at Seth. "Yeah, okay."

He shook his head and pulled another ten from his wallet. He'd already given her too much, but he just wanted her gone and it eased his guilt...a little. "Here."

"But, it was onl-"

"Just take it. Please." He needed her out of the car before he started balling like a baby right in front of her.

She took the money from his shaking fingers, pulled on the door handle and exited the car.

Once Seth had composed himself, he backed out of the lot and headed for home. When he got there, he went straight to the shower, washed for forty minutes and then went to bed. He dreamt of Ryan's bruised skin and his wrist. He dreamt of Ryan's fingers wrapped around that cigarette, how he'd nimbly flicked the ash away and then about those same fingers wrapped around his own cock.


	3. 2

Notes:

Iceworm- I've never read Camille, but I know the general story and I think I can resist. ;) Unless I'm thinking of something else. lol

Don't hate Seth.

This fic is rated R.

Chapter 2

* * *

Seth faked sick the following week so he wouldn't have to go to school, but after three days his Mother got worried and wanted to take him to the hospital, so he was forced to go back and listen to the taunts from his peers for the remaining two days. He was running out of dry shoes and running out of jokes to confuse the neanderthals that made his existence a living hell. 

That Friday he made up an excuse to borrow the car and headed out to Chino. This time he took his Father's Lexus even though he felt stupid driving around in it, but his Mother was still at work and he had no other choice.

He couldn't get that boy out of his head. The wet dreams alone would have been enough to put Rosa in a tizzy and make his mother call the psychiatrist again if she knew what they were from, if he hadn't been stealth and washed them in the morning before anyone else was awake. There was something about him, something undefinable. Seth knew going to him, seeking him out, would change everything; would splinter everything he thought he knew about himself and forever change the way he lived his life, and though he was scared to death, he knew he had to see him.

The entire week he'd dragged his guilty conscience around with him. It felt like a stick of dynamite strapped to his chest every time he breathed. He told himself it meant nothing. That he was a teenager and it was okay to be confused...at least that was what all those after-school specials had always claimed.

And he knew, even as he sat in class, head bent, shoulders slumped to avoid drawing attention to himself so no one could mock him for being different, that he was going to go back and see Ryan again. He was going to go because he _was_ different and he needed something, _someone_, to make it okay. Someone that maybe understood.

Seth circled the block for the tenth time, driving slowly. He was waiting for that boy-the one the hooker had called Ryan-to come around. He'd seen the brunette that had given him the blow job get into a white Camry and drive away. That had been fifteen minutes ago. He watched as the car followed behind him now and from his rearview he watched her get out and blow a kiss to the driver. Then he saw Ryan. His arm slung over the Spanish girl, the same wife-beater-or maybe a different one, who knew how many he had?-covering his wide chest and the cross sparkling against the last of the sun as they walked together to the corner that they usually occupied. It was too late to double back, so Seth turned up the street and sped his way around again.

There were things Seth knew about that not many regular people--people that hadn't grown up privileged in a mansion big enough for a family of twenty--had the pleasure or displeasure of knowing (depending on how someone looked at it). For instance, he knew how to tie a Windsor knot when he was seven and a bow-tie when he was eight, he knew how to set a formal table and which forks were for salad and which were used for the main course and had become an expert when it came to manners and decorum in Newport by the time he was ten.

Those were all well and good. Good things to know. They'd come in handy later in life, he supposed. But then there were things that Seth had missed out on, the things regular people got to experience, like friends and the joy of running through the sprinkler in the middle of the day because the air-conditioner was broken, selling lemonade for ten cents a cup to earn enough money to buy that comic book he'd had his eye on - those were the type of things that built character. Those were the things his father tried to teach him about. He'd never gotten to experience any of it. He'd always had enough money for comic books and whenever the air-conditioner went out there was always a maintenance man at their house within an hour.

One thing Seth did know that no one had to teach him was loneliness. And he had always suspected that it was an universal emotion. He knew, looking at Ryan, that he'd been right.

As he got closer, he noticed the bruise had faded, but the cut above his eye was still an angry red. Seth pressed a button and the tinted windows rolled down. He slowed as he approached the pair and finally stopped a few feet away. He saw them both look into the car and then speak to each other in hushed whispers. Ryan removed his arm from around the girl and kissed her on the cheek; her eyes looked sad as he did so. Seth turned away. He felt the heaviness in his chest creeping up on him again.

Ryan opened the door and got into the car like he had been expecting Seth all along. Seth turned his head to look at him. He was sweaty, smelled faintly of smoke, but other than that looked like a normal teenager.

"I-I..."

"Blow job, right?"

Seth nodded, his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth.

"Go two blocks down, remember where Gwen took you last time?"

Seth nodded dumbly, hoping he didn't come off looking too stupid. He hadn't known the woman's name. He hadn't asked.

"Okay, go there."

Seth obeyed. He put the car in gear and rolled away, but not before catching the eye of the girl Ryan had been walking with. A weird feeling vibrated up through Seth's spine. It was dirtier than guilt. Seth felt like he was choking. He rolled the windows back up and reached his hand out. Ryan pressed himself against the back of his seat and Seth startled.

"Sorry, I'm just going to turn on the A/C. I wasn't gunna-" Seth cut himself off, he wasn't quite sure how to finish.

Ryan nodded and looked out the window, remaining cold and distance.

Seth had to remind himself this was just a job for the other teen, just a way to make money. He turned the air-conditioner on full blast and wiped the sweat form his forehead.

He wanted to say something comforting but anything he said was just going to sound stupid and the guy looked like he could take care of himself, if anyone should have been spooked it was Seth.

"This is a nice car. What're you rich?"

Seth tried not to sound too surprised that the stranger beside him had spoken. "No...but my parents are." He cut the engine and cleared his throat, spared a glance beside him where Ryan was slouched in his seat. "What's your name?"

Ryan smirked, his hair falling forward as he leaned over and whispered into Seth's ear. "Whatever you want it to be."

"Ryan," Seth said, instantly regretting it when the other boy pulled back and his eyes got dark. "Gwen," Seth divulged as way of explanation. He knew from his reaction it was his real name, not some made-up street name. "Uh, I'm Seth by the way. Just, you know, since I know your name..."

"Look, _Kid_," he said, rolling his eyes, "I don't get paid to talk."

Seth hated how young his words made him feel, how weathered Ryan seemed. He nodded for lack of anything to say -which was a great feat because Seth always had words even when he didn't need them.

In the darkness it was hard to see Ryan and it occurred to Seth that he didn't even know the colour of his eyes. Ryan hadn't looked him in the eye, not once. He did look at him, though. He was constantly sizing Seth up, looking at him from the corner of his eyes, always observing him. It made Seth feel a deep ache in his chest he didn't quite understand.

Ryan pulled a condom from his combat boots and Seth had a flashback of that movie, Pretty Woman, his mother always called so romantic, apparently his mother had never been in an alley about to get head from a boy who could have been his friend in another life and feeling like a complete asshole for wanting it so bad. It wasn't glamourous and it wasn't romantic.

Seth tried to relax, tried not to say something completely dorky and off-topic when Ryan's hand reached over and unzipped him so he was free from his too-tight jeans. Ryan was completely focussed. All business. He didn't hesitate, didn't put on a show like he was enjoying the whole encounter, just ripped the foil package and slid the condom down Seth's shaft with his mouth. His hothothot mouth. He knew he was going to come too fast. He was actually surprised he hadn't right then. Seth groaned and bit his tongue. He tasted blood.

Slamming his head against the seat, he gripped the door handle instead of holding onto Ryan's hair like he wanted to do. "Fuck," Seth groaned.

Ryan doubled his efforts, licking and sucking and Seth knew he was going to come. "God, Ryan. God!"

His hips jerked and his eyes rolled to the back of his head, all he could see was blackness and stars shooting out into the abyss which was where Seth had relocated.

Seth couldn't breathe properly and the windows had fogged. Ryan was already back in his seat, condom tossed and waiting to be paid. Seth wished it was more, wished they could just sit and talk for awhile, but Ryan looked anxious to leave.

Seth recovered enough to zip up his pants and pull his wallet from his pocket. He counted out the money, adding a few extra bills. He handed the money to Ryan who shoved it in his front pocket and Seth couldn't help his eyes from following the move.

Ryan reached for the door handle and Seth grabbed his arm. Ryan yanked it away and glared at Seth.

Seth swallowed, trying to keep the waver out of his voice. "Uh, I-I'll take you back."

"I can walk," Ryan said and exited the car, leaving Seth alone.

Seth drove home. He let the air conditioner numb his fingers and his thoughts.

He hated Luke; hated him for being right. He hated the part of himself that wanted Ryan and hated himself more because he knew Ryan had to hate him, too.

In the comfort of his bed that night, Seth clung to Captain Oats, his toy horse, letting the world fade away and allowing tears to fall from his cheeks onto his pillow without making a sound.


	4. 3

This is rated R.

If things seem vague, don't worry, they'll be explained later.

* * *

Seth wrestled with his feelings for two weeks before he finally owned up to them. When he went back to Chino for the third time it was with a heavy heart. As bad as he felt, he knew it must have been ten times worse for Ryan. And he only wanted Ryan. It was all he could think about.

There had been another boy working the street-attractive, early twenties, pale skin, green eyes-but Seth wouldn't settle. He waited around and when Ryan didn't show up he went home.

* * *

Ryan hurried down the street, a bag of groceries in each hand. A container of juice had busted open and was trickling out of the bottom of one of the bags. Not bothering to find keys, he kicked at the bottom of the door.

Theresa opened the door, taking the bags from him. "You were gone a long time."

"Careful, that one's leaking. Yeah, uh, I've got to get going soon." He didn't offer any further explanation.

Going grocery shopping was one of the few times that he was allowed to feel normal. There were no expectations, no demands on him, and he preferred to keep that to himself.

Ryan looked at the clock, it was nearly nine. The streets would be starting to get busy soon.

"Why don't you stay in tonight? You look tired. How's your stomach?" He smoothed back the hair on her forehead and felt for a temperature.

Theresa batted his hand away. "I'm fine."

"You don't have to do this anymore, I've got us covered."

"You shouldn't have to; I'm the one that screwed up."

"It's not your fault."

"I thought he loved me, Ry."

"I know." Ryan looked at her sympathetically. Leaning over, he kissed her forehead and tried to smile. He stood to his full height and pulled off his shirt, leaving him in a wife-beater and slightly ripped jeans. He grabbed a few condoms from the cabinet and messed up his hair in the mirror. "I'll be back later. Heat up some soup and eat some crackers."

"I will. Be careful."

Ryan nodded and was out the door.

Monday nights were the worst. The cops were always on top of their game at the start of the week and Ryan couldn't afford to be get arrested. There was too much at stake. He had to keep a low profile.

Ryan spotted Gwen and took a minute to wave to her. "Hi, honey," she greeted. "Where's Theresa?"

"Sick," he said and kept going.

Ryan walked further along the street running into Monique, one of the hookers he knew of with a severe drug problem. She'd been on the streets a long time and it showed.

"Did you hear Bambi and Missy got busted last night? A lot of pigs out tonight."

Ryan was quiet. There was something unsettling about being around the girls that did drugs, mainly because he'd been tempted to do them himself before... One time and only once he'd let that temptation take over. The ultra-fine powder had burned just a little and his eyes had teared before everything turned smooth and silver and wonderful. It was beautiful.

He'd learned that it wasn't quite so magical when someone got a bad batch and overdosed, almost dying right in front of him. The hookers that used were always messed up. They were always so out of touch with reality. It seemed to help get them through at first, but by the time they were addicted they had to hook to keep themselves in drugs instead of for survival. The fix became more important. And they always looked so much older than they were, not that he was vain, but it wasn't appealing to him. And he could live without the paranoia.

"'Scuse me a second, sugar. Hey baby, you want a date?" she called to a passing car. The car stopped and she walked over to it, doing her thing. She got in the car and he watched them pull away.

Ryan stood back, leaned against the brick wall and waited.

Most of the girls used lines like 'cutie' or 'hot stuff,' 'big boy' or 'handsome' when they were trying to attract a John, especially if he was old or bald or fat and ugly -they needed to hear those type of things to make them feel important. Ryan didn't work that way, the potential client either liked what they saw or didn't and he wasn't going to butter anyone up; he still had some pride left.

His clients were predominately white, married men. The older men, the ones that could barely get it up, just liked to look at him. Mostly. They liked the company and listening to themselves talk. They liked to see a nice young body and they liked to touch. It sounded more pleasant than it was. Their fingers were always cold and clammy like doctors' hands and some of them were. Doctors. Lawyers. Judges. Respectable people in the daylight -some monsters by night. Some liked to hit him and when he'd first started out he didn't do much about it, didn't know how to, but now he fought back. The worst beating he ever got was from a Methodist minister that claimed he was trying to beat the devil out of him, which really didn't make sense because he'd spent the previous minutes rutting into him like a dog. People were full of contradictions and hypocrisies; Ryan could smell it on people now.

A Lincoln pulled up. The seats were leather, the windows tinted. Ryan snapped to attention. The driver looked to be in his late forties-salt and pepper hair, neatly trimmed mustache, light brown eyes.

Ryan approached the car, leaned against the side. "Hey," he drawled.

"How much?"

"Depends on what you're after."

"I want to fuck you."

Ryan tried not to cringe. He always tried to get a little extra from the rich ones. "Seventy-five bucks."

"Get in," he said and flipped the locks.

Ryan opened the door and slipped into the car. There was no pretense like there was with some of the girls. The men, his clients, didn't wine and dine him.

When the man asked Ryan his name, he told him it was Joe. Guys like him always wanted a name. He didn't know why. It wasn't like they wanted to know him.

They pulled up to the cheap motel around the block. Ryan waited in the car while the man got them a room. He was glad he wouldn't have to turn into a contortionist in the backseat of the car for once.

Five minutes later, the man he'd been told to call Phil, came back with a set of keys in his hand. They drove to the front of the room and went into it. Ryan stayed standing while the man sat on the bed watching him.

"Hey Joe, why don't you take off your clothes?" he said.

From the corner of Ryan's eye, he could see 'Phil' twisting around his wedding band and slipping it off his finger. That always made him laugh. A lot of men did that. It wasn't like the ring had eyes or was going to whisper all the man's dirty little secrets back to his wife. Whatever worked.

Ryan started to strip, consciously making himself go slow because he knew that was what was expected. He made more money that way, too.

"Come over here," Phil said, trying to sound as sexy and flirtatious as he could at forty.

Ryan obliged. He all ready felt dirty and used. He closed his eyes and blocked everything out.


	5. 4

Thanks for the reviews. I love to read everyone's thoughts and predictions. ;-)

This is rated R.

* * *

Ryan woke slowly. His head pounded like a motherfucker. He tried to lift it, receiving sharp jabs of pain that ran through his neck when he finally succeeded. The clock on the night stand was old and broken, it blinked 12 o'clock with its ominous neon green light. His mouth felt like cotton, dry and hot. His throat constricted. All he could taste was the copper flavour of his own blood. Ryan brought his hand to his face, touched his bloody lips. He checked the time on his cheap plastic watch. 3:23 am. Fuck.

He'd spent almost the whole night here. Theresa was going to be beside herself with worry. He knew he should get up and get dressed, make sure she was okay, but he couldn't make his limbs work. Everything felt heavy and sore. He buried his face back into the pillows. They smelled like sweat and sex. It made him gag. Rolling over onto his back, he winced as the pain threaded through his body.

Everything from the night before came back to him with degrading clarity. He shuttered. It was always the quiet, even-mannered ones he had to worry about. He should have been more careful.

There was money on the table. At least that was something to be thankful for.

With effort, he pulled himself out of bed and stood on shaking legs. He gathered his clothes form the floor and brought them with him into the cramped bathroom. It was disgusting. The hotel hadn't cleaned up the place in a while it seemed. Not that he was really surprised, most people that checked in weren't looking to spend the night.

The shower was small and dirty, infested with cockroaches and spider webs. Ryan turned on the water. The pressure was horrible, it came out in a thin drizzle. He stepped under it regardless, letting the water rinse away the previous night.

There was no towel to dry himself so Ryan slipped back into his clothes and swiped the money from the table, stuffing it into his pocket.

The night was just beginning to fade away when he exited the motel and started down the street toward home. The streets were empty and quiet. It was weird.

He wouldn't tell Theresa what had happened; she didn't need to know. It would only worry her. The memories were for himself alone. He kept the good ones and kept the bad ones, otherwise everything would be a lie.

Theresa was still sleeping when he slipped through the door. He smiled. She looked so young. It was sometimes hard to remember that they were both still teenagers. Usually he could forget that, but not right now; right now he felt like a child and he just wanted to be wrapped up in Theresa and have her tell him everything was going to be okay. _They_ were going to be okay.

Carefully, he maneuvered onto the couch, sinking in behind Theresa.

Theresa moved to accompany him. "What time is it?" Her voice was low and groggy.

Ryan could tell she was only half awake and vaguely aware of what was going on. "Late. Go back to sleep," he whispered.

"You okay?" she asked sleepily.

Ryan nodded. "I'm okay."

And if he said it enough...eventually, he might even believe it himself.

* * *

Seth had to be bribed to go to school when they first moved to Newport. The kids were so different. All they cared about was money and designer labels. Seth knew he was never going to be in the 'in crowd.' He learned that on the third day of second grade when Jenna Swane handed out invitations to her birthday and he was the only student in the class that didn't get one. They made fun of his hair, his shoes, the way he talked...everything. He was miserable. He didn't want to go to school. He didn't want to live in Newport. So his mother came up with a plan.

Kirsten would tack up stars on a chart next to his name on the days he went to school without a fuss and after a week, if all five stars were under his name, he'd get a special treat. It had made things bearable...for a little while.

Ryan was like that. Like a prize. A bribe he cajoled out of himself. His grades were going back up. His shoes were still wet and none of the girls in his grade ever talked to him, but he was making it through because he had Ryan to look forward to. A light at the end of a very dark and lonely tunnel.

And he knew it was wrong. So very wrong. But he couldn't stop going to see him; couldn't stop wanting him no matter how much it hurt.

He knew his mother and father weren't worrying about him anymore. Not like they used to. He didn't hear the late night whispers of 'what are we going to do?' and 'it's just not normal,' 'how can he not have any friends? I know the kids here are...different, but...' Now they smiled at him over breakfast and exchanged secret glances with each other. His mother didn't look tired all the time anymore. They joked about where he went. Seth knew they thought he had some secret girlfriend stashed away somewhere and he let them believe it. It was easier than telling the truth.

Seth came down the stairs, immediately heading for the kitchen to fix a snack. He was surprised to find his mother sitting on a stool around the island, reading the paper.

"Hey, aren't you supposed to be at work?" he asked, pulling out the milk from the refrigerator. "Does grandpa know you're slacking on your responsibilities?"

"Your grandfather's the one that sent me home. He told me I was smiling too much."

"He's a real fun guy that grandpa." Seth opened up the cupboards and pulled out a box of Fruit Loops.

"He has his moments," she said, laughing. "What about you? Are you going out again tonight?"

"Uh, yeah. I was thinking about it. I can still take the car, right?" Dumping some cereal into a bowl, Seth concentrated on pouring milk over it so he wouldn't have to look his mother in the eye. That had become harder and harder to do since he'd started his trysts to Chino.

"Sure, honey. You know, I think it's nice that you've made a friend." She smiled at him, so warm and full of love that Seth nearly spit out his cereal. She'd hate him if she ever found out the truth. Suddenly he didn't feel so hungry.

"Well, I think I'm going to take a nice long bath and try to relax." Kirsten stood, touching his shoulder as she walked past. "Have a good time, sweetie."

"Yeah. Thanks, Mom." Seth shook his head, dumping the rest of his snack into the trash. God, he felt like a complete ass. A sexually-charged, law-breaking, lying ass.

* * *

Seth had been beat up at school before, but never like this. A few bruises, cuts or scraps, but not this stark brutality he saw on Ryan.

"What happened to your face?" he asked before he could control his tongue.

"I walked into a door," Ryan dead-panned, rolling his eyes.

"Seriously, who did that to you? Was it..." Seth stopped before he said something stupid and made Ryan mad enough to walk away.

Ryan's eyes were hooded, distant. "Look, some guys like it a little...rough. They pay extra, so..."

Seth felt his anger rise. "They hit you? What kind of-"

"You want me to get in the fucking car or not?" Ryan snapped, his eyes on the road.

Seth recognized the shame and it took all the air out of his lungs. When he finally remembered to breathe, he nearly choked over his words. "Yeah....yeah, no...what I mean...is yes, uh, you know...if you wanted to..." Seth shook his head, closed his eyes in embarrassment. "Get in, please."


	6. 5

Iceworm- I sort of see what you're saying. Just to clarify: Seth has been to Chino at least 3 times. Once he was with the female prostitute, once with Ryan and another time looking for Ryan, but there were also a few weeks where he wrestled with his feelings.

Thanks for the reviews. :)

This is rated R.

* * *

Seth was back in Chino. He came every Friday. Literally.

As soon as school was out, he raced home to change and then headed back out just so he could catch Ryan as he walked to the corner. Seth always overpaid and he told himself it was because he had the money and that it had nothing to do with wanting Ryan all to himself, even though he was pretty sure on Friday's he had become his one and only client. Seeing Ryan beaten up had jarred him; it made everything real. Ryan wasn't some imaginary friend Seth had made up, he was a real live, living and breathing, human being and he was really down on his luck. Seth couldn't push down the need to want to help him nor the need to want to be near him. It was sick the amount of time and energy he wasted thinking about Ryan and coming up with a plan to help him. Even sicker was that he still took advantage of him knowing what it must have felt like for Ryan; knowing it cost the other boy his dignity.

But he couldn't stop.

Ryan was leaning against a wall--wife-beater in his back pocket, foot pushing against the bricks, eyes closed--when Seth pulled up next to him and honked. Ryan opened his eyes and turned them on Seth. The sun shone against them, illuminating their blue colour and Seth sucked in a breath. He'd never seen anyone look that beautiful before and it wasn't even because he got his dick rock hard in .02 seconds either. It was...too hard to explain. Seth continued to stare as Ryan made his way to the Range Rover, pulling his shirt on over his head. They knew each other now; knew what to expect and what not to.

He told himself he was going to have to stop coming here, stop soliciting Ryan's services - his Bar Mitzvah money could only go so far and sooner or later one of his parents were going to notice his dwindling funds.

He had noticed, once or twice, that Ryan was hard while he sucked Seth off, but he'd never asked for more than a blow job or hand job -he couldn't make himself ask for more and he wasn't sure he knew exactly how to ask for more or if he even wanted it.

Ryan got into the car and they drove to the abandoned hotel like they did every time. Seth stopped the car and faced Ryan. He'd had a speech planned, more or less, for a week and now his mind was drawing a blank. He cleared his throat, averted his eyes. "You don't have to do this," he said when Ryan went for his belt. "I mean, couldn't we just...talk?" He tentatively placed his hand over Ryan's.

Ryan bowed his eyes. "I need the money. I told you, I don-"

Seth cut in. "I'll pay you anyway, just...have coffee with me or something."

Ryan looked sceptical.

Seth took out his wallet and pulled out three twenties and a fifty dollar bill. "One-ten for you to have coffee with me."

Ryan eyed the money. Seth pulled out another fifty dollars. "One hundred and sixty dollars." He shrugged. "That's all I got."

Ryan swiped the money and looked ahead. "Fine."

Seth smiled, he wasn't exactly sure what he was doing. They pulled into a diner a few blocks away and Seth followed Ryan inside. They sat in a booth beside a beat up jukebox that was playing some sad Patsy Cline song. Her voice came out low with a vibrating twang. Seth had never been a fan of this type of music, but he could feel and hear the words wrapping around him, trying to strangle him with guilt. Ryan looked out the window.

Seth bounced around in his seat with nervous energy. "Get whatever you want. I mean, if you're hungry, get some food or, you know, whatever."

The waitress came over and placed menus and two glasses of ice water in front of them. Ryan picked his up and took a long gulp, snagging a piece of ice in his mouth and rolling it around his tongue. Seth watched; his dick twitched in his pants. The conversation was polite and constipated.

The waitress was back, she took the pencil from behind her ear and the notepad from her pocket and looked between the two boys expectantly. "What'll it be?"

"Double cheeseburger, well-done, no onions, fries, coleslaw and a Coke," Ryan said abruptly, handing the menu back.

Seth smiled at the waitress. "Just coffee for me, please."

"Be back in a jiffy, boys!" she exclaimed a little too chipper and waddled away.

Seth rubbed his neck, he'd been out in the boat this week and had forgotten sun screen. He'd come home with a terrible burn and his Mother fussed over him and followed him around with Aloe Vera until he'd retreated to his room. It was just starting to peel and itched like crazy.

Seth's eyes flickered to Ryan. He hesitated before speaking. There were so many things he wanted to know about Ryan, so many questions that he wanted answers to. There was one more pressing than any other. "That girl, the one I always see you with, the pretty one? Is she your girlfriend?"

Ryan smirked, his eyes glinting from the flourescent lights overhead. It was the first time Seth had ever seen any real emotion from the boy.

"Theresa? No," he said and his smile increased. "Nah, she's just a friend. She's like my sister." Ryan straightened, catching himself. When he spoke again his mask was back in place. "I look out for her."

Seth's next question was automatic. "Who looks out for you?"

"I do," Ryan answered firmly.

Seth could see the pain hiding behind the blue of his eyes. He'd been hurt; hurt in ways Seth couldn't even imagine. "Don't you have parents?"

"Dad's in jail."

Seth's shoulders slumped. "And your Mom?"

He looked off to the side as he answered. "Who knows."

"Are you in school?" Seth absently played with a sugar packet, anything to keep his hands occupied.

Ryan shook his head no. "Dropped out after my Mom split and my brother took off, been on my own ever since."

"What about the future?" Seth wanted to smack himself as soon as the question left his mouth. God, he sounded like his father.

Ryan shrugged. "What about it?"

"I dunno, you just seem too smart to be..." Seth cleared his throat. "You just seem smart is all. Don't you have any plans, any dreams?"

Ryan leaned forward, got close to Seth's face, close enough for Seth to smell the smoke on his breath. "Let me tell you something, okay. Where I'm from? havin' a dream doesn't make you smart, knowing it won't come true? that does."

The waitress set the food in front of them before Seth got a chance to get in any more questions.

"Thanks," he said picking up the packet of sugar he'd abandoned from the table and stirring it into the piping hot coffee.

He didn't speak after that, just watched Ryan. Ryan scarfed the food down as if it had been the only thing he'd had to eat in a long while and Seth wasn't sure that was entirely untrue. When he was done, he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one with a match. "Want one?"

Seth held his hands in front of him. "No, uh, that's okay, I hear those things can kill ya."

"There are worse things than being dead," Ryan remarked lowly. Seth nodded though he didn't really know what was worse than death. He was sure Ryan had seen a lot of ugliness in his short life, but enough to want to be dead?

When it came time to pay the check, Seth pulled a twenty from his sock. "For emergencies," he said as Ryan glared at him.

"I thought you said you didn't have any more money?" Ryan asked, leaning across the table and for the first time Seth was scared.

"I-I-" Seth stuttered, "forgot. Sometimes I hide money on my body so the jerks at school can't take it. Not that they need the money," he said with disdain, "they just get-off on taking it from me."

Ryan seemed to relax. The seconds that passed were weighted by tension and unease.

"I don't have a lot of friends," Seth admitted, hoping it came out casual. "I sorta thought maybe...we could, you know..."

Ryan scoffed. "You want me to be your friend?"

Seth shrugged. He didn't want it to be about the money anymore. He didn't want this servant/master relationship that they had developed out of circumstance to stand. "I just thought-"

Ryan cut him off. "Listen, _Kid_," Ryan said pointedly, "you don't know guys like me. You don't want me as your friend."

"I think you're cool." This time he more than regretting his words; he knew he'd just blown it. It seemed so easy in his head, but inevitably he'd screwed it up like he did most things.

"Cool?" Ryan asked bitterly. "I've sucked your cock for fuck's sake, you can't just pretend that didn't happen."

Seth's face tinged red, he could feel people looking their way. Ryan got out of the booth and headed for the exit. Seth sat there in shock for a minute before dropping the twenty on the table and rushing outside. The streets were empty save for a homeless man pushing a grocery cart and searching the garbage for tin cans.

"Fuck!" He reached in his pocket and pulled out his keys, turned the corner and got into the car.

He thought about going back to the corner Ryan and Theresa were always on but he checked his watch and thought better of it, if he got home too late he ran the risk of being grounded and he couldn't let anything get in the way of his visits to Chino.


	7. 6

Notes:

Iceworm- Be patient. lol You're always keeping me on my toes. ;-) I can't give you every little detail up front, little things will start to unravel and hopefully begin to make sense. The thing about Seth is that he had a tendency to think he knows everything, even if he doesn't. It just so happens Seth was right in this instance. So, he's really not trying to be condescending, he's just trying to find some common ground...trying to get Ryan to open up to feed into this idea of who he thinks Ryan is. For now, Ryan's kind of like this idolized person for Seth. The things that are highly valuable, like intelligence, are automatically attributed to Ryan in Seth's mind. And, I think that you can tell a lot about a person even if you don't really know them, at least that has been my experience. I think if Ryan was dumb that would be easy to figure out right off the bat. Anyway, I hope that all made sense and cleared things up.

Chany- That piece of dialogue was taken from The Pilot. As I mentioned in my disclaimer, there will be a few bits of dialogue right from the show...I'll be playing with it a bit as you'll see in later chapters. Good that you caught that though. ;)

Thank you everyone for the reviews. Glad to see new readers popping up as well. :)

This is rated R.

* * *

The night air was steadily cooling, but Ryan's anger and embarrassment was still hot and fresh in his mind. The sky, starless and gray, held thick clouds on its endless surface, making the moon a dull, lifeless mass barely distinguishable. The path back to the dinky apartment he shared with Theresa was familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. He'd walked these streets countless times not considering, not thinking, about what was beyond the borders of the broken down storefronts and potholed streets and now that's all he could think about. It was a luxury he'd never afforded himself. There was an entire world out there that he was never going to get to see. How dare Seth tempt him with friendship. How dare that little pissant mess with his head. If not for the money Seth was supplying, Ryan would have reached across the table and decked him. But, as it was, hitting a client wasn't going to get him any further in the game. 

Ryan had seen a movie once, The Prince of Tides, where the guy-he couldn't remember his name-had been raped by a man after he'd just been released from prison. He distinctively remembered the pivotal scene where the guy broke down and told his secret to Barbra Streisand playing the shrink as she listened on with big doe eyes full of concern. He'd said something to the effect of: 'I didn't know it could happen to a boy,' in reference to the rape. By the time Ryan was the same age as the character in the film when the rape had occurred he'd known several times over that it could happen to a boy. That a man could rape a boy, body, mind and soul.

Ryan was the son of a cheap drunk and a roving petty thief. A kid born on the floor of the kitchen in darkness because the electricity had been cut off and the car sat on cinder blocks on the front lawn and there was no money for a hospital stay. His first real look at the world was in the dark, no different from the rotten womb from which he came. It was funny in a non-comical kind of way. That's how he'd come into the world and he'd go out just the same, darkness surrounding him, wailing with the moon.

The first vague memory he had was of Trey pushing him out of his bed and wailing on him with a plastic Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle action figure. The plastic had been sharp as it dug into his back, but even back then he refused to cry. He wouldn't give Trey the satisfaction.

The first real memory he had was of glass breaking and screaming; screaming that never seemed to end. Sometimes he had nightmares where he could hear that bloodcurdling scream and on those nights he'd wake up covered in sweat, grasping for hope that he could never reach.

His first good memory, one not tainted or faded by time, was of a queen size bed. It was his first good night of uninterrupted sleep. No one poked at him. There was no brother or other child that took all the blankets and left his toes feeling like ice to share space with. It hadn't even mattered that he'd been placed in a foster home after the downstairs neighbour had called the cops on his mom for leaving the boys alone. He didn't mind being separated from Trey, didn't mind that he couldn't see his mother, because, for once, he felt safe. No one came to his bed that night.

His Dad had never been around much, nor was he the bastard his Mother always claimed him to be in her drunken rages. Ryan knew his whole family was flawed, but his father had always made him feel special. There wasn't a specific memory that stuck out, but just a general feeling of peace that flooded him when he dredged up his memory. And, like everything good in his life, he was fated to leave Ryan time and time again as he floated in and out of jail for petty crimes, finally leaving for good for a prison Upstate when Ryan was ten. His parting words had been this: 'Son, sometimes we have to do things we don't always wanna just to survive... I've made a lot of mistakes, but you're not one of 'em.' It wasn't 'I love you,' but it meant the same.

Ryan was eleven when they got the phone call. His father had been stabbed in the throat and died almost instantly on the dirty floor of the prison cafeteria -not that Ryan knew that it was dirty, he just pictured it that way, dredging up images of the worse kind. When the prison sent back his things, his mother hocked his Father's wedding ring immediately. Ryan had managed to steal the chain and cross that his Father never took off out of the crumpled bag before anyone had a chance to miss it. He wore it now and, though, he never gave it much thought, Theresa told him it was what always kept him safe and alive; that his Father's spirit was encased in the cheap trinket. He wasn't sure about all that, but it was comforting to think in those terms.

Ryan's mother, Dawn, was the most unstable woman he knew. She worked, off and on, sometimes as a waitress, sometimes as a cashier, sometimes as a whore. Not a real whore, not like what he did. She'd just find these guys, these real slime-balls, and let them buy her things and if she'd been a little brighter or cared a little more, she might have known that she wasn't the only one they were fucking. Ryan didn't like to think about that. He didn't like to think about his mother, period. Getting pregnant with Trey and marrying so young had started her on a downward spiral of a life lived in haste. Everything she did was scarcely planned out. She liked to live for the moment, forgetting sometimes she had children to take care of and a home to run. In her mind, Ryan imagined, she was still a carefree seventeen-year-old before life's burdens made her an ugly shell of her former self.

The drink was her problem; she lived for it now. In her attempt to regain her youth, she'd picked up a college kid's thirst for alcohol and reckless abandon. There had been days when she had disappeared leaving Ryan and Trey to fend for themselves and then there were other times where she became involved with their lives, started to regain the colour to her face and the beautiful woman she once was could be seen in the corner of her eye, just lurking beyond the shadows waiting to emerge fully, but the responsibilities would always, inevitably, prove too much. One day of forgotten chores would lead to many days, the food in the cupboards would slowly diminish and so would their Mother's desire to care. Dawn gave them hope and then cruelly took it back only to pick up the bottle again and dwindle away into the tyrant she became under the 90% proof spell of Vodka.

Ryan spent a lot of time at an after school program when his mother worked late and one of her nasty boyfriends moved in with them. There was a woman there, Miss Pritcher, who had always been nice to him. In the beginning, he'd even dreamt at night that somehow he'd been switched at birth and Miss Pritcher was his real mother --even though she was a single woman and had no children of her own. They were the dreams of a boy looking for love; anyone that looked close enough could see how hungry he was for any kind of affection. She cared about what was going on in his life...asked him questions...made sure he had enough to eat. She was his friend.

Ryan stopped to tie his shoe in the faltering light. The lace snapped in his shaking hands. He threw it to the ground and stood. From his pocket he extracted a cigarette and lit it. The warm smoke filled his lungs and relaxed his tense body. He started to walk again.

Ryan had wanted to laugh the first time Seth had gotten the nerve up to finally stop the car and look at him but bit his tongue instead. He'd seen his type before. The rich, awkward ones that didn't know what they were and desperate to find out if what they feared the most was true. He'd seen how Seth had looked at him, how much he'd wanted him. He offered him Gwen when he'd seen the uncertainty in his eyes. Over the years, he'd learned it was best not to push,. People claimed their real agenda eventually.

Ryan had been with a lot of different people in his short lifetime. Men that took away his innocence. Men that only wanted to hurt him. Men that just needed an orifice to claim for a night. But he hadn't been with many men like Seth. And that was unfair, because Seth wasn't really a man. He was a boy, if anything. A boy who still believed in the concept of love and redemption.

Ryan would guess that he'd never kissed anyone in his life, let alone gotten head in the front seat of Mommy and Daddy's car and he'd certainly never fucked anyone. Ryan saw in his eyes that, though he offered friendship, he wanted more. Everyone always wanted more. Still, he was one of the nicer ones. Ryan could usually spot a liar a mile away and there had been no telltale signs -no eyebrow twitches, no nostril flaring, no nervous smile-when Seth had asked him so innocently to be his friend.

Ryan looked down each side of the street as he crossed the road. He kicked at a broken beer bottle and sent it sailing into a brick wall, smashing it into a thousand brown shards. Stuffing his hand in his pocket, he kept his head low. There was no need to draw attention to himself. The anger still hadn't left him and he knew by now that it had little to do with Seth.

She had been his friend. He remembered little things about her even after all these years. If Ryan closed his eyes, he could picture everything she kept on her desk. The emery board she was always filing her long pink nails with, the orange she always seemed to have -he could even remember the smell as she peeled it and offered him a piece. The taste of it as he sucked on the little beads and they popped in his mouth spraying the roof with sugary juice. And he could remember her. Miss Pritcher had long blonde hair, graying around her forehead in dry wisps, that she kept wrapped tight in a bun most times and cheery-red lips. Pale, gaunt cheeks and high forehead. Legs encased in sheer hosiery and her shadowy, varicose veins standing out starkly on her milk-white flesh. Her long, rawboned hands. The smell of her mint breath as she kissed his neck. Her sickeningly soft skin. That kind of thing never really leaves a person.

Ryan liked to view the people that had been his predators as monsters; monsters that shape-shifted to suit their needs. In their human form these people could be passed on the street without recognition, when they turned into the monster...it was impossible to escape.

Ryan threw his cigarette to the ground after one last unmerciful drag. His fingers skirted the chain-link fence as he rounded the corner.

It hadn't always been like this. He'd had a home once -though it was so long ago and the memories were so faded he barely remembered what it was_ really_ like and what he'd just made up to comfort himself because home had never been a place where he felt safe. After his Mom left and weeks went by without her return, Ryan knew he was truly alone in the world. For a while he lived with Theresa and her family, until her mother remarried and Theresa's step-father starting coming to her room at night. Her mother prayed, but refused to get a divorce and one night, as Ryan made his way back from the bathroom, he caught the bastard in the act. They left together the next day and hadn't been back...couldn't go back, no matter how bad things had gotten.

Theresa had always been in love with him. He knew it, but couldn't do anything about it. He didn't feel that way about her and when her affections weren't returned she got involved with men she was too good for, men that only wanted one thing. When they ran out of money and couches to crash on, the next step was drastic but there was no other way. They rented a small room and got by, but they had bigger plans for the future. As soon as they had saved enough they were going to go to Atlanta where Theresa's cousin lived and try to start over. They wanted to leave everything behind and just forget.

Besides Theresa, no one had wanted to be his friend, not for a long time. And Ryan had had enough experience with 'friends' to know no good ever came out of it.

What Ryan didn't know until he was twelve was that it wasn't just men that raped. The day it happened he felt just as dumb and awestruck as Tom -Tom, that was his name in the film-because it _could_ happen to a boy and women could do it, too...

Ryan was particularly afraid to go home that day. The day before he'd been beaten so bad he thought for sure he was just going to die, but he hadn't. He'd survived. He always survived...

She kissed his neck and giggled like a school girl, even though her school days had been many years ago. The glint in her eyes was a little bit wild. Her voice was raspy and her lips trembled as she unbuttoned his shirt and kissed at his bruised chest. Her fingers were cool, clammy, against the buckle of his belt. Ryan closed his eyes and faded away to that very dark place in the back of his mind...

He stormed through the apartment door and slammed it shut making everything not bolted down shake.

"Here," he said, thrusting the money Seth had just given him at Theresa.

Theresa eyed the bills in her hand suspiciously. "Where'd you get all this?"

"Where do you think? I earned it." It wasn't a lie, he did earn it. Talking to that kid wasn't easy, he wasn't his social worker.

"O-kay, you're in a good mood." Theresa rearranged herself on the couch so she could look at Ryan who was busy pacing the length of the small apartment.

Ryan looked at her and stopped. His face softened. "Sorry," he apologized, taking the seat beside her and stretching out his legs.

They were both silent for a long time. Ryan searched his pocket for a cigarette, caught Theresa looking at him and thought better of it. Lifting the floorboard, he pulled out a glass jar stuffed with money and accepted the bills back from Theresa, stuffing them in with the rest. He screwed on the top and replaced the jar and placed the floorboard back in its proper position, securing it with a slam of his foot.

"What's going on with you and that kid?" Theresa asked, concerned.

Ryan rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palms, avoiding Theresa's gaze. "Which one?"

"_'Which one?'_" she mocked. "The one that drives up in those expensive cars."

Ryan shrugged, the last thing he wanted was a lecture. "Nothing, he's just another John."

Theresa narrowed her eyes. "Nuh-uh, there's something going on. Is he the one that gave you all that money?"

Ryan nodded.

"You like him, don't you?"

Ryan felt his cheeks heating. "Don't be stupid."

"No, no, I think you do." She continued, poking him in the side. "Oh my God, are you blushing?"

Ryan rolled his eyes, focussed on the rip in his jeans at his thigh. "Shut up."

Theresa was grinning broadly, it wasn't often she got to tease him. It was annoying. "You better be careful, Ry, you just might start falling for him."

"I'm not you!" he fired back, instantly regretting in when Theresa's face fell, her eyes getting misty. "Christ, I'm sorry. I didn't meant that. It was a shitty thing to say." Placing his arm tentatively across her shoulders, he waited for her to accept the gesture before he pulled her completely against his chest.

"No, you're right. I was stupid," she admitted quietly against his shoulder, rubbing her stomach.

He stroked her arm. "Theresa."

She was sniffling now and he wished he could take away all the pain; take away every wrong that had ever been done to her, but he couldn't. That just wasn't possible. So he held her and listened instead. "He told me he loved me and I believed him, how stupid does that make me?"

Kissing the top of her head, he pulled her even closer, held her tight. "You're not stupid, Theresa, you just believe the best about people. That's not a bad thing."

She looked up at him, wiping the tears from her eyes. Her brown eyes were so big and sorrowful it broke his heart. There was nothing in the world he wouldn't do for her. Nothing. "I wish I was more like you; I wish I could just close myself off."

Ryan didn't respond, instead he rested his cheek against her head and listened as her breathing slowed and evened out. Unable to sleep himself, he thought about what Theresa had said late into the night.


	8. 7

Thanks for the reviews. :)

This is rated R.

* * *

Sleep was elusive for Seth. The moon barely broke free of large, gray clouds all night and it only served to worsen the ache in his chest. He watched the sky until the sun started to come up, his mind trembling with the thought of never seeing Ryan again. He tossed and turned, his sheets freshly laundered and smelling clean and entirely too soft for his liking. It wasn't fair. True, it wasn't his fault he was born into money, but why should he have so much when everyone else had so little? Closing his eyes and waiting on sleep became too tedious, finally couldn't take it anymore and got dressed in the little light coming from the window.

Creeping out of his room, he was fairly certain everyone was still sleeping - he could hear his mother snoring softly down the hall. Stealing the keys to one of the cars, Seth drove out of the gated community, birds chirping his departure and the security guard offering him a curt smile and wave.

Pulling into the bank parking lot, he searched his wallet for his bank card and used it to gain entry and then again to withdraw money from the ATM. He stuck the five-hundred dollars -his daily limit- into a manilla envelope and set it on the seat next to him. He'd never been where Ryan was at, but money had to help, didn't it? It was all Seth had that could make a difference. It was a stepping stone, a way to get Ryan to at least listen.

Through the gates, the security guard gave him the same compulsory wave and smile and Seth took an extra second to smile and wave back. Replacing the keys, he tucked the envelope inside his jacket pocket and layed out on the couch waiting for the rest of the house to stir.

The whole day he sat around the house, anxious, waiting for his parents to leave. He'd been blessed by some deity-he wasn't sure which one he was putting his faith in this week-because they'd told him earlier in the day that they were going away for a romantic weekend. While Seth didn't care for the details, he was grateful, for once, that he was an only child and there would be no one to tell on him if he came home way past his curfew...or not at all. After that news, he spent the day trying to look like he wasn't hiding anything which just made his parentslook at him with suspicion. Seth was not good under pressure.

His parents left late in the afternoon - his mother fussing over phone numbers and take-out menus before his dad reminded her that Seth was a big boy and could take care of himself, even if he didn't look convinced himself when he said it. After bidding them adieu, he attempted to beat his high score on Playstation but got no enjoyment out of it; burnt a CD for the car, a compilation of Emo songs he hoped Ryan might take an interest in, though he wasn't going to bring up his musical choices unless Ryan did and then, grudgingly, finished the rest of his homework. When the sun started to go down, Seth couldn't get out of the house fast enough.

The drive to Chino was twenty minutes shorter than regular, helped by the fact that he'd done ten over the speed limit the whole ride.

He spotted Ryan immediately. He was alone, hustling on his corner. A shock of blonde hair offset against the crumbling red bricks of the building behind him. The light from the sun flared down on his face in such a way as to make it appear like there was a spotlight shining directly on him. Cheeks red, bruises fading and blue eyes slitted and squinting against the uncompassionate light, Ryan looked tired and beautiful.

Seth had always thought that being gay was like having a parasite growing inside him. That first night with Ryan, he'd been cleaving onto the last bit of hope he had in him that he could make it disappear; if he got it out of his system...if he just did the wrong thing once...if he didn't enjoy it... maybe it would go away, maybe he could just make it shrink slowly and then vanish it to the farthest corners of his mind. He knew now that that wasn't how things worked. And now, the scariest thing of all had occurred, he suddenly realized...he didn't _want_ to get rid of it anymore.

Seth didn't expect this to go smoothly. He knew he'd made more than a few blunders in asking Ryan to be his friend. Gaining his trust was going to be hard. He knew the money would seem like a bribe, but he didn't dwell on that fact. Anything that got him closer to Ryan was worth it.

Seth rolled down the windows and slowed the car. "Can we talk?"

Ryan noticed him and began to walk away. "I'm busy," he shouted over his shoulder.

"Please?" Seth begged, fear making his voice come out squeaky like he was still in the thickets of puberty.

Ryan looked annoyed. "I'm trying to work here." Looking around, Ryan veered right, heading for a throng of streetwalkers down the block.

Seth put the car in reverse and followed him down the street. "I'll give you five hundred dollars if you get in this car right now."

"What?!" Ryan stopped walking, looked directly at Seth.

"Five hundred," Seth repeated and held up the envelope.

* * *

Ryan unlocked the door, pushing against it when it stuck. He moved aside and let Seth pass. The door banged behind him and everything shook.

Seth took in the cheap, brown-shag carpet, the army-green couch and chair, the clothes neatly folded in the corner, a small table with a broken lamp, books stacked high against the radiator -Seth thought this was very unsafe- and frowned.

Ryan must have been watching him because he spoke up. "It's busted, don't worry."

Seth nodded and sat down on the couch. Ryan chose the chair. He lit a cigarette and began to methodically count the money.

Seth took a deep breath and released it slowly, coughing slightly. "So, this is home."

"I guess," he grunted without looking up.

Seeing Ryan in his home environment seemed to overrule any unspoken stipulations. It was a peek inside his life. Odd that he should show it to Seth; it had to mean something. Seth didn't focus on that though, he'd been burned in the past for misinterpreting things.

Ryan breathed out through his nose, squinted his eyes and clung to the cigarette with his lips, paying no attention to Seth. When he was finished making sure every last dollar was all there, he stuffed the envelope in the space between his jeans and his bare skin. Seth swallowed hard when he got a look at his abdomen.

Ryan noticed.

He stood, taking a few steps toward Seth. Picking up an ashtray, he butted out his cigarette. His steps were light and sure. The smile on his face was cocky. The pale blue of his eyes gave nothing away. His hand reached out and touched Seth's curls, let them tangle in his fingers.

Seth unconsciously closed his eyes.

"Lay down on your stomach," Ryan instructed, his voice even.

Seth eyes snapped open, he made eye contact with Ryan. Gone was the placid look in his eyes, replacing it was cool determination.

Seth was jumpy, his leg began to shake without his instructions. "What for?"

"What do you mean what for?" Ryan asked, unbuckling his belt.

Seth finally clued in. His mother always said he was a late bloomer. Apparently his own ineptitude and naivete were in fine form. Standing, he held his hands in front of him and backed away until there was nothing left to back into but the wall. "That's not- I don't want to-"

"Then what the fuck _do_ you want?" Ryan looked angry or frustrated or some other emotion Seth couldn't pin down.

Seth considered his answer. What did he want? What did he _really_ want? The answer eluded him. What he wanted was friendship, but was that all he wanted? For now, at least, it had to be. Still, if he revealed his hand too quickly he might spook Ryan away again, but if he lied -and Seth had always been a bad liar- he would be breaking that already fragile bond of trust that he so desperately wanted. He was trapped and the only right answer was the truth, despite what it might cost him.

He didn't blink as he spoke. "I told you: I want to be your friend."

"Why?" Ryan asked, his expression morose.

Seth was silent, he couldn't explain why because he really didn't understand it himself.

A cell phone chirped in the corner. Seth was thankful for the reprieve. Ryan eyed the ringing phone before he rushed over to answer it.

"Hello?" he said, shortly, into the receiver.

_"Ryan, man. Theresa's hurt."_

Ryan began to pace, beating down a path on an already thin carpet. "What? What happened?!"__

_"She went off with a John... turned out to be one of Eddie's friends. It's pretty bad, man."_

Seth watched as Ryan became increasingly more edgy. Whatever was being said was not good news. "Where is she now?" __

_"Gwen and Jags are with her." _

Ryan's fist was clenched at his side. "Where, Stix? Where are they?"

___"Behind the hotel. There's a lot of blood, Ry..."_

"Take her to the hospital now, Stix. Even if she refuses to go...drag her if you have to. I'm on my way." Ryan hung up and threw the phone onto the chair.

"What's going on?" Seth asked, watching Ryan pull the door open with shaking fingers.

Ryan didn't answer. He didn't even seem aware of Seth's presence at all.


	9. 8

Thank you all for the reviews.

This is rated R.

* * *

Seth stormed out of the tiny apartment. The door, swelled from the heat in the room, refused to close until Seth gave a final pull and felt it budge into place. There were no keys to lock it with and Seth hoped it would be okay even though the neighbourhood looked prone to break-ins. Catching up with Ryan, who'd set an angry pace down the street, Seth offered to drive him to the hospital. Conflicting emotions battled in Ryan's eyes. If he wasn't so worried about Theresa he probably wouldn't have accepted, but he _was_ worried and so Seth drove them, miles over the speed limit, dodging and weaving in traffic, to the emergency room.

Ryan, sitting silent, had been metamorphosed from a confident, in control, teenage-man to a worried statue of nerves. His stone-hard features concentrated on the passing buildings as they blurred by. Seth watched his face darken at each red light and stop sign.

Finally at the hospital, Seth parked the car while Ryan rushed inside to see if he could find anything out.

Taking his time, Seth scoured the parking lot for a space. He wasn't entirely sure it was safe to leave the car outside unattended, but he had no other choice. Wobbly legs led him through the automatic doors and into the waiting room.

Just as Seth was about to approach a lost-looking Ryan, a tall street-kid -attractive, dyed black hair and a stud through his nose--came down the hall and Ryan grabbed a hold of him. "Stix."

"Ry."

They eyed each other, neither seemingly able to find words. It was Ryan that finally broke the silence with his tortured voice.

"What did he do to her?" he asked, pulling on the labels of the taller boy's jacket.

The boy hung his head. "Beat her up pretty bad. She wouldn't let any of us touch her. She only wanted you." Seth saw silver flashing in his mouth when he talked and surmised he also had his tongue pierced. Seth felt his own tongue in his mouth, and thinking about the initial pain of having a bar through it, winced.

"_Fuck_! The baby?" The question sounded brittle like it would shatter him to a million pieces if he got the wrong answer.

Stix shook his head. "They're releasing her as soon as the doctor comes back."

Ryan appeared to be bracing himself, like at any moment he would fall apart and everything around him would collapse. "Are they letting anyone see her?"

Something about the way they interacted made Seth think that this wasn't the first time something like this had happened; it was like a ritual they hadn't quite practised enough, runes of unfaithful prayers.

Stix eased Ryan's hands off of his pauper jacket and let them fall where they may. "You can go; she's been asking for you anyway."

Ryan nodded and looked back at Seth. Everything undesirable was shining in his eyes and Seth couldn't breath. In the movies, in books, they always said that the eyes were the windows to the soul, but not Ryan's. Ryan gave nothing away now. He just glared with fearless determination and strength.

Seth excused himself to find the men's room. He turned on the cold water faucet and doused his face, looking in the mirror. The air smelled musky like moth balls and sour milk. He felt his stomach lurch and his saliva thicken. He made it into the stall just in time to throw up everything in his stomach. Leaning against the porcelain, it felt like a vice was wrapped around his head, squeezing out all joyous thoughts. It didn't seem to bother him whether he contracted something from the toilet because at the moment his legs didn't remember how to stand. After a while though, he stood, coils of wracking shakes numbing his nerves, and made his way out of the stall and back to the sink. In the mirror, he saw his skin was gray and his eyes bloodshot. This moment wasn't real he kept telling himself. Shaking his head, he tried to come to his senses. He cleaned himself off as best he could and when he couldn't hide out in the bathroom any longer, he made his way out into the waiting room.

Two girls were sitting on either side of the guy Ryan had referred to as Stix on uncomfortable-looking red chairs - Seth thought that was a bad choice of colour to put into a hospital where so much blood was spilt daily. One, he recognized as Gwen -the woman that had given him his first blow job. She was resting against his side, biting her lip and the other -a diminutive woman, donning a fiery-red wig with lips to match and alabaster skin-was staring at the broken clock on the opposite wall.

Seth approached slowly. They all looked up, but no one spoke to him. Stix jutted out his chin in acknowledgement and Seth mimicked his actions, sitting down in an empty chair.

* * *

Ryan crept down the long corridor, the antiseptic smell burning the hairs in his nose and a trail of blood under the janitors mop making his stomach churn. The smell of death was strong. The chipped, graying walls, once white and gleaming, were like an old pair of lungs finally giving out, surrendering their last breath. A wave of cold rushed through him like a ghost walking through his body without permission and it gave him the creeps. Ryan hated hospitals. He'd spent enough time in them to know that not everyone left and death lingered much longer than a hacking cough or a broken bone.

He hesitated at the doorway, reminded of how many times they'd done this dance before. The overhead lights buzzed and flickered harsh-white against his eyes. From his place, he could just make out Theresa at the very last bed. The mustard-yellow drapes were pulled halfway around the bed, just enough to allow him a glimpse.

She was curled up, her back facing him, the threadbare sheets wrapped tightly around as she clutched a pillow like it was the only thing she had to cling to. He knew when he approached she would cling to him in the same way.

Theresa trusted the wrong people. She had trusted Eddie and she'd believed him when he'd told her he loved her and that he would always be there. She should have taken him at face value. Because he always was there. Even when she called it off, told him she'd made a mistake, he was there. Hovering. Restricting. Shrinking her into someone Ryan didn't recognize.

A nurse breezed past him and he finally got up his nerve, stepping into the room with Theresa and half-a-dozen other occupied beds. He slowly made his way around the side so he could see her face. The damage was worse than he expected, but not as bad as it had been the last time. For that, he could be thankful. Her eyes battled to open, welling up with tears when she recognized him.

"Hey," he said, touching the side of her face. It was bruised and her lip was bloodied. He tried not to cringe.

"Ry." Her voice was strained like she was speaking through a mouthful of marbles.

Ryan didn't want to say anything that would upset her, but there were things on the tip of his tongue he wished he could say. He took her hand and perched on the side of the bed, careful not to disturb her. The circles under her eyes-masked under purple bruises-were darker than he had ever seen them before. He knew it was time for her to go to Atlanta.

"I thought we agreed that Eddie was bad news," he said and tried not to sound too bitter or reprimanding. "He could have killed you. I told you that I would take care of you; I told you that you didn't need to do this anymore."

"We need the money and I swear: I didn't know he knew Eddie." She started to cry. Ryan hated when people cried. He always felt awkward and useless. He gathered Theresa in his arms. She clung to him like he knew she would, and, fisting his shirt into her hands, sobbed onto his shoulder.

Theresa recounted the whole ordeal with detached exactness. Eddie's friend had lured her into a car with the promise of money and delivered her to Eddie, defenceless and alone. He'd beaten her like a dog. She'd felt like she was being broken in two, like he would never stop and the pain would never ease, like it would always live inside her and suck out all the laughter from her soul. And even when she cried and begged him to stop, he hadn't, not until her thighs were drenched in blood and her voice was barely a gasp did he stop his violation.

Ryan's gut twisted. He couldn't help thinking that if he had been there he could have stopped it...he could have saved Theresa.

How she could be so stupid, he didn't know. Except that a small part of him did get it, did understand. Because he had once trusted so freely and the consequences had been just as devastating. So really, he couldn't be mad at her for having hope that people could change, that there was goodness in everyone. In a way, he envied it.

Touching her hair-matted with small twigs and clots of dirt-he whispered, "I think it's time."

She didn't agree or disagree either way.

Ryan held her for a very long time until the doctor came in for one final exam and signed her release papers.

The nurse-her own eyes watery and her skin blotched-had been nice enough to find Theresa some clothes -a gray track suit, frayed at the sleeves and worn thin at the knees. Ryan thanked her and helped Theresa take off the scratchy paper nightgown stained with blood.

Bile rose in his throat as her body was bared. Fist-size bruises marred her tan skin accompanied by cuts and scraps and blood. Her back and legs were no better and Ryan had to look at the ceiling to keep the tears out of his eyes.

Blood. So much blood.

Running a washcloth over the wounds, Theresa didn't react at all. She stared off into space, a vacant look in her eyes. She registered nothing and that, more than anything, scared him.

Everything was bruised. Theresa was defeated. And he hadn't been there to stop it.

* * *

Seth didn't know what he was supposed to do. He wasn't good in a crisis. No one spoke to him or to each other and Seth began to feel an ominous thump in his chest every time he looked up and Ryan still hadn't come back.

An hour later, Ryan walked alongside a nurse as she pushed Theresa in a wheelchair. Their hands were connected in a tight grip.

Seth, following the others' lead stood as they approached, taking tentative steps toward the pair.

He tried not to stare at the nasty bruises or Theresa's stomach where a baby had once been, but he knew he did a piss-poor job of it.

"That's Seth," Ryan said, offering no other explanation. Theresa had surely seen him before. She knew who he was.

Theresa tried to smile, but didn't quite make it.

"I'm sorry," Seth began, but Ryan's hand was on his chest and his eyes-blue and commanding-were locked on him.

"We don't say sorry."

Seth looked between the aged faces of the teens who nodded in agreement. He didn't know what to do, so he did nothing.

Ryan crouched down, took Theresa's arm and placed it around his neck. He lifted her up and, with deliberate care, passed her over to Stix.

"Go with Stix; he'll take care of you until I get back." His voice was gentle, but Theresa refused to look at him for some reason. Ryan sighed. "Okay?" No response. His hand cupped her face, tilted her chin so she was forced to look him in the eye. "Okay, Theresa?"

She finally nodded and let Stix lead her out the automatic doors. Jags and Gwen followed close behind.

"Is she going to be okay?"

Ryan nodded.

"What happened? Is there anything I can do?"

"You know what? You ask too many fucking questions!" Obviously in Ryan's eyes Seth was just making a nuisance of himself.

"Look, I'm just trying to help."

"You want to help? Go home, Seth," Ryan said without facing him. "You don't belong here."

Seth's adrenaline was pumping. "I want to help." He touched Ryan's shoulder, but he shook Seth's hand off.

"You can help by leaving. I can't watch out for you, too."

Seth watched him walk out the door without a look back. He moved out of the way as two paramedics rushed through the door with a man on a stretcher, blood oozing from an open wound on his chest. Seth watched drops of red hit the worn tile and when he looked back up all traces of Ryan and his friends were gone.

Seth stood there until something inside him ripped. It was the picture he had of Ryan's life. The glamour and glitz were swept aside with the torn portrait he'd painted himself of Ryan. It was just an image, an idea and it needed clarifying. Seth was not going to save Ryan with money. It was going to take a lot more than that.


	10. 9

Thank you for the reviews.

This is rated R.

* * *

The edge of Chino was surrounded in a glow of gray that seeped into a person's skin and made their insides feel gray as well. Not literally, but there was a definite change that happened when a car passed the barrier between the next town over and the jurisdiction of Chino. It was like the difference between the rich and poor; night and day; happiness and sadness.

Seth felt it and maybe that's what caused his actions to be so desperate.

It was stupid to stakeout the apartment of the guy he'd been exchanging money for sexual favours with. He knew that. But Seth couldn't help it. He needed to see things end well...he needed to see Ryan.

He knew he stuck out like a sore thumb. There weren't too many people driving around in Range Rovers in the deserted streets of Chino. Those that did were either drug dealers or there for the same thing that had initially drawn Seth: sex. Sex was a lucrative business in Chino.

After he'd left the hospital, home had seemed very far away. Retracing his way back to Ryan's apartment seemed like a good idea at the time. An hour had gone by before anyone emerged.

Seth had watched Ryan exit the apartment, cigarette dangling from his lips, expression sullen.

He'd kept the car far enough back to not draw suspicion to himself, but even so, he was pretty sure Ryan was aware of his presence.

Seth had once smashed an entire fleet of G.I. Joes with his skateboard after school in a fit of anger. Their tiny plastic arms and legs flew across the yard, some landing in the swimming pool and on the deck, one rebounded off the glass doors of the pool house and hit him in the side. He'd laid there on the grass, curled up, restraining his tears, until his father had scooped him up and then he'd sobbed onto his shoulder; his nose bloody from the fight he'd had that day, staining his father's Armani suit. It had been one of the worst days of his life. It would probably seem trivial compared to Ryan's day to day existence, but he knew what it felt like to not be in control. To feel powerless. And to want revenge.

* * *

Vengeance was the only thing on Ryan's mind as he stalked the streets of Chino. Rational thoughts meant nothing. They were gone. Every muscle in his body was tense.

His feet knew where to find Eddie even if his brain was trained on other things. The walls of buildings seemed to close in on him, tightening on the corners and making his existence seem so small. All his life he'd lived in this town and, as a child, it had seemed endless, but now everything was clear and he realized how empty this place really was. How empty he was.

"Eddie!" Ryan called when a group of guys came into view. They were sitting around on the hoods of beat-up cars, sipping hard liquor and horse-playing like children without a care in the world.

A tall man -six feet, two inches, with greasy hair and a long, crooked nose- separated from the flock. Eddie.

His smile was sinister, his eyes dark. "Atwood, you fucking fag! What the hell you doin' 'round here?"

Ryan didn't stop walking; he picked up his pace and shoved Eddie, making him drop his liquor. The liquid spilled out and darkened the pavement. "She lost the baby because of you!"

Ryan's fingers squeezed around Eddie's neck, pushing him hard onto the hood of a car. All he wanted to do was keep squeezing and wipe that smirk off his face.

Pushing Ryan back, Eddie regained his footing and laughed. He rubbed his eyes, pretending to cry, and then smiled eerily. "Oops?"

Ryan was pissed. His fists were clenched at his sides. A fight was inevitable. "You're a sick bastard, you know that?!"

"Here," Eddie said, crumpling up a twenty dollar bill and throwing it on the ground in front of him. He pulled down his zipper and laughed. "Suck it."

Everyone jeered. Ryan couldn't hear any of it. It was like he wore a filter that could only let in Eddie's voice and censored any other background noise.

"Fuck you!"

Eddie's face straightened. He stood to his full height, towering over Ryan. "No, fuck you, Atwood!" He poked him in the chest. Hard. "You're lucky your brother's not around. He woulda kicked your ass until the queer was outta ya."

He turned, laughing with the rest of his crew. Trey was serving time, destined to become another failure in the long line of Atwoods that proceeded him. And, yeah, if Trey was around, he probably would have beat him for what he'd been reduced to. It only served to provoke him further.

Ryan surprised Eddie with a jab to his side. He doubled over. The crowd had been awakened.

Ryan didn't show fear. If he wasn't incensed he would have ran the hell out of there. That would have been the smart thing to do. But he was a man of honour; a man who sought retribution for people he loved. Theresa deserved some justice.

The boys, five of them in total, surrounded Ryan. They closed in on him like walls and Ryan got the same feeling of insignificance as he had on his journey over here. Fists began to pound down on him. Blackness crept into the edge of his vision.

* * *

Seth couldn't see much. He saw enough to know that Ryan was going to get hurt, if not killed, if he didn't step up and do something.

Turning on the ignition, he floored it a few blocks up where all the action was taking place and threw open the passenger side door. Ryan was barely visible in the centre of the riot.

"Ryan, get in!" Seth's voice screeched and he'd never felt more sheltered in his entire life.

"I told you to go home." Ryan looked up, costing himself a punch to the ribs.

"Get. In."

Ryan took a look at his surroundings. He was no match for five guys, but he needed to hurt Eddie. Needed him to bleed. Bulldozing his way through them, he caught Eddie on the jaw and sent him to the ground where he proceeded to kick him with his steel-toed boots. Someone jumped on Ryan's back, but nothing was going to stop him now. Eddie used his hands to try to grab a hold of Ryan, so he smashed it into the cement. Eddie screamed.

"Ryan! Come on," Seth begged, fear making his voice quake.

Ryan kicked Eddie one last time...in the crotch. Everyone grabbed their own privates and groaned in sympathy.

Ryan looked like a rabid dog, ready to spring and tear apart anything that got in his way. The men parted and allowed him passage. Ryan didn't look back as he got into the SUV.

Seth peeled away. His heart raced in his chest and his throat constricted. "Are you okay?"

Ryan touched his face and hissed. "Been better."

"You should probably get stitches."

"I've had worse."

"That was really...intense." Seth checked the rearview and noticed flashing lights coming closer. "Shit, the cops! What do I do?"

Ryan looked over his shoulder, wincing as he did so. "Just drive slow and keep your eyes on the road."

Seth did as he was told, kept to the speed limit and his eyes up front. The car pulled beside them and passed a second later.

Ryan surveyed the damage in the mirror. Blood and sweat merged into his open cuts and it looked like it stung.

Seth could feel Ryan's eyes on him. "Thanks for..."

"Yeah, no. I'm glad I was there," Seth said humbly, knowing how much it cost Ryan to say that.

They didn't speak the rest of the way back to the apartment. When they got there, Theresa was laid out on the couch, a blanket covering her even though the room was stifling hot. Stix was sitting in the chair, Jags in his lap while Gwen boiled water for tea over a hotplate.

Ryan knelt down, smoothing the hair from Theresa's forehead. She took one look at him and tried to sit up, but he pushed her back down. "Ryan, what did you do?"

Ryan shrugged. "Forget about it."

"Eddie?"

"Taken care of," he assured her, keeping up his light touch.

"You shouldn't have. If the cops had picked you up..."

"Don't worry about me." Ryan leaned forward and kissed her forehead, lingering. He pressed his cheek against hers. "Think you can make it to Atlanta like that?"

Theresa pulled away, dropping her eyes.

"You're going, Theresa," Ryan stated, leaving no room for argument.

"There's not enough."

Ryan pulled out the money Seth had given him earlier from his pants and stuffed it in Theresa's hand. "You're going."

This time when Theresa attempted to sit up, Ryan let her. "What about you, Ry? I can't go without you. I can't leave you here."

Ryan settled back on the couch, sucked in a breath and turned his eyes away. "I'll manage."

"How?" she asked, pulling at his shoulder so he would look at her.

"Somehow," he answered, meeting her eyes. "I always do, don't I?"

"He'll stay with me," Seth said, surprising himself and everyone else in the room, especially Ryan.

"No." Ryan stood. "Absolutely not!"

Seth shifted, unsettled by the attention from everyone in the room. "Why not? We've got a lot of extra room."

"Ry," Theresa said, pulling on his hand. "I won't go if I know you're not safe."

Ryan shook his head. "You want me to go with him?" he asked, pointing to Seth while keeping his eyes trained on Theresa. "Be his bitch for the rest of my life?"

Seth's eyebrows went up. He held his hands in front of him, defensive. "Whoa, no one said-"

"Stay out of this," Ryan said pointedly. His eyes turned on Seth for a second and they were the icy gray of hate, of Chino.

Theresa pulled on his hand again and forced Ryan back on the couch where she could reason with him better. "Please, Ryan. Just consider it. He's been good to you, hasn't he?"

"That's not the point!"

"This is your shot, Ryan."

"My shot at what?"

Tears were in Theresa's eyes and Seth wasn't sure if that was from the pain of her body or her heart. "At a better life. You can't do this forever. We both knew this day was coming." She was letting Ryan go and, essentially, giving him to Seth.

"I can't, Theresa."

It was like no one else was in the room. Their conversation remained focussed and unobstructed. Seth leaned against the wall by the door, wondering if he should just slip out and leave them be.

Seth didn't know exactly when everything changed. He'd been too busy studying the floor to noticed the mood shift, but suddenly he felt all eyes on him again. When he looked up, he saw Theresa first and Ryan second. Both their eyes were trained on him and broken. Seth felt his unease reach a plateau well beyond anything he'd ever experienced before. The heat of the room was making him feel dizzy.

"What?" It probably was the least elegant thing he could have said, but despite all his good breeding, Seth was still a social retard by design.

"Ryan's going to stay with you now," Theresa said and Ryan's face fell.

Seth nodded, but didn't speak. Couldn't. His voice was lost somewhere. It was probably in the same place his brain had been when he'd offered Ryan a place to stay without consulting his parents...

* * *

No one spoke the entire ride to the bus station. Theresa decided it would be best if she took the bus to the airport and waited by herself. It would be too hard to do it any other way. She didn't want to sit for hours prolonging things. Jags, Stix and Gwen had all said their goodbyes back at the apartment. The entire exchange had been brief and emotionless, but Seth was sure he heard Theresa crying in the backseat as Ryan sat with her, holding her hand.

Ryan had packed up the apartment, giving almost everything they owned to Theresa even as she protested. She was very weak and still in shock and Seth wasn't sure where she'd drawn the strength to even stand let alone make a trip across the country.

Ryan made all the arrangements while Seth sat with Theresa on a bench. She looked tired and sore and barely spoke to him. Not that he blamed her, it wasn't like they had a lot to talk about.

"Seth?"

The sound of his name, spoken so softly, drew him out of his thoughts. "Yeah?"

"Ryan's going to be okay with you, won't he?"

Seth nodded, afraid his voice would betray him again. Theresa surprised him by taking his hand. Looking over his shoulder, Seth caught Ryan's eye at the ticket counter. He quickly turned away.

"I think he hates me," Seth said.

Theresa shook her head, the effort looking strenuous. "He doesn't."

"Are you sure? 'Cause...well, he kinds looks at me like he does."

"Give him time," she offered, releasing his hand. Theresa craned her neck, saw Ryan's approach and met Seth's eyes. "Take care of him for me, huh?"

Seth nodded vigorously. He was pretty sure that Theresa was putting all her faith in him and the last thing he wanted to do was disappoint her. "I will."

Theresa hugged him hard, desperately. "Don't hurt him."

"I won't," Seth said, pulling back. A lump had formed in his throat and he had to stand up and walk away to get himself back in control.

He watched as Ryan kneeled in front of Theresa and gave her the bus ticket and something shiny.

Theresa opened her hand exposing the cross that Ryan usually wore around his neck. "Ryan, I can't. This belonged to your dad. It's all you have left."

Ryan shrugged, looking off to the side. "It's not a big deal."

"He's dead, Ryan. It's not like he can get you another one for your birthday."

That caught Seth's attention. Dead? But hadn't Ryan said that his father was in jail?

"Take it," he said and placed it in her palm, closing her fingers over it. Theresa clung to him and Ryan held her, gently stroking her back.

Seth hung back as Theresa and Ryan said their final goodbye and Ryan helped her board the bus. He waved alongside Ryan as it pulled away and Theresa became a tiny speck in the distance.

When they couldn't see the bus anymore and the smoke from the exhaust had evaporated, Ryan turned to Seth and spoke. "All right, she's gone. You can go."

Seth was puzzled. "What? Go? Go, where?

"Anywhere," Ryan answered and headed for the closest exit. " Just, get away from me."

Seth trailed after him. "But I thought...? I mean, we agreed-"

Ryan stopped. "Look, you've done your good deed, but Theresa's gone now and we don't have to keep pretending... So you can drop the act. I'll pay you back."

"What act? And I don't want your money. I thought... I meant what I said: you can come stay with me."

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Why would you want to do that? Why would anyone do that for me?"

Seth shrugged. "Why not?"

"Whatever," Ryan said and began to walk again.

"Hey, wait up!" Seth grabbed a hold of Ryan's arm. "Can I ask you something?"

Ryan looked at Seth's hand on his forearm but didn't comment or even pull away. "You're going to anyway."

"Theresa said -I wasn't trying to eavesdrop or anything, I just overheard--" Ryan glared at him.

Seth continued quickly. "Is your Dad dead?"

Ryan nodded slowly, his eyes narrowed.

"But back at the diner you told me your dad was in jail."

"He was," Ryan said, reflectively, but then he caught himself and his mouth contorted into a cocky smile, "but then someone killed him."

Seth scratched the back of his neck, his eyes unfocussed. "So, why did you lie to me?"

Ryan looked annoyed. "Look, I don't even know you. Jail has more shock value than death, doesn't it?"

"So you were trying to shock me?"

"What's with the psychoanalysis?"

Seth had asked the question more to himself and jumped when Ryan answered.

"I just want the truth, Ryan. If we're going to learn to trust each other..."

Ryan pushed his hand onto Seth's chest, moving him backward. "I don't trust anyone, especially not some rich kid that wants to take me home to his mansion and claims to want nothing in return."

"Okay, I get that," Seth said, holding his hands in front of him to show Ryan he wasn't a threat. "Why don't you just come home with me and you can see for yourself. It's not like I'm going to force you to stay. I mean, look at me...do you really think I could make you do anything you didn't want to? I couldn't even prevent a three-year old from smearing paint in my hair -not that that actually happened," Seth said, laughing nervously. "Just come with me and the second you don't like something or I get on your nerves, you can go. What's the harm in that? Either way, everything is up to you."


	11. 10

This is rated R.

* * *

It was late. Seth wasn't sure on the exact time. He had lost track somewhere between Ryan's apartment and the bus station. It was still dark outside. By the look of the sky, the sun would be coming out soon.

Ryan hadn't said a word the entire ride to Newport and his mouth remained firmly closed as Seth led him through the house and out into the backyard.

Everything raged at Ryan's intrusion, working together as if knowing the wishes of the rest of Newport society. As if they could somehow detect that he had never been amongst such wealth, the few palm trees swayed in the uncommon wind, bending and twisting to get a better look; the grass waved and turned its spiked eyes away; the pool rippled ugly curves of chlorinated blue water, whispering to the concrete and soil as it spilt over the edge and seeped inside; only the pool house glass invited him, remaining serene and reflecting back the cruel greetings of nature.

Seth felt a shift in the air as he cautiously walked ahead of Ryan to the pool house.

"This is it," Seth said, opening the door.

Ryan brushed past him and took a look around. He set down a black duffel bag containing everything he owned in the middle of the room.

Seth eyes were more critical now in the safety of his own home. They saw how Ryan favoured his left leg; how his knuckles were bruised and swollen, the corner of his eye smeared with blood; the way he tensed every time he pulled in a breath.

"So?"

Ryan scowled. "So, what?"

"Is it okay?"

"Yeah. It's...fine." Ryan looked at the bed, tensed and cracked his neck. "Should I just... or do you want me to take a shower first?"

Seth coughed. His stomach knotted up. "What?"

Ryan reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of condoms. He threw them onto the bed and limped toward Seth. Ryan's eyes were empty as he looked through Seth. Taking off his shirt, he wiped off the blood from a cut near his eye that never got the chance to heal; it always seemed to get reopened just when it was almost scarred over. Seth wondered if there were scars like that inside Ryan too.

Ryan pulled his wife-beater over his head, unbuckled his belt and let his jeans drop to the floor. Standing in boxer shorts, he was tan, scarred and astonishingly beautiful.

"Holy Fuck!" The words left Seth's mouth and it was as if someone else had taken charge of his brain. Sometimes Seth still felt guilty when he cussed, like his Mother or Rabbi Altman would come around the corner and scold him for saying such vulgar things. He didn't feel guilty now. Spellbound was a better word. There Ryan was, practically naked in front of him, and he wasn't so sure he would be able to risk temptation if it was constantly presented to him like this, but this time he had to. If he was ever going to gain Ryan's trust now was the starting point. "I told you-"

"Told me what?"

Ryan stepped out of his pants with some difficulty, but Seth was still too mesmerized to really notice.

"Uh, this," he said, pointing to the crumpled clothing carelessly kicked aside, "I don't- you don't.... any of this."

Ryan was still moving toward him. Even the bruises on his ribs and fist-sized welt on his leg didn't deflect from the chiselled features of his body. Seth would never look like that. He was all harsh lines and sharp angles, hardly the perfect specimen for a seventeen-year-old boy. Ryan was smooth and compact, the kind of body they painted on charts for anatomy class. Seth wanted to touch him to make sure he was real.

"I'm not stupid," Ryan said, edging closer.

"I never said you were." Seth tried to swallow but his throat was too dry and his tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth.

Ryan's cut had stopped bleeding, but his eye was still red and swollen. "Let's just get this over with so I can get my stuff and go, before it gets any later."

He was close enough now for Seth to reach out and touch him. He wanted to get away...or move in closer. He didn't know which one he wanted more. Trust, he reminded himself. That was more important.

Seth shook his head, trying to reassure Ryan. "Look, it's been a long day... You're hurt and Theresa's gone and I know that must suck, but I offered you a place to stay and I meant it. I don't want anything more than that from you."

Ryan laughed. It was cold and bitter and sent chills down Seth's spine. "Tell me why you're doing this?!" There was something desperate in Ryan's eyes. Something that made Seth feel like his chest was caving in.

Seth scratched the back of his neck. "Because I want to," he said, tentatively. The tiles on the floor held his attention for a full minute. He noticed one had cracked. He knew the next time the maintenance man--or whoever it was that looked after the house--would replace it soon. It was so easy to get things fixed in this house. As soon as someone noticed something was broken, it got fixed. Seth wondered if someone saw the cracks in Ryan's armour--like Seth had seen through his interactions with Theresa--if they saw inside his heart; that it was chipped and fragile, how long it would take for someone to notice, how long it would take for someone to fix him. Only, he wasn't so sure Ryan really could be fixed or that he was even broken. Maybe he just saw things that weren't really there, because it made himself feel good to think that he could help. Taking in a large breath, he pulled his eyes back up and looked at Ryan. "I want to help you, because I think you need it...and, because...I-I like you."

Ryan's fist curled at his side. Seth wished he hadn't noticed. "Don't fuck with me, Kid!"

Fucking him or fucking with his head was the last thing on Seth's agenda. Trying not to pee his pants was taking top priority. Ryan was violent. Seth knew that, but hadn't really thought about the consequences of having Ryan's temper aimed at him.

Seth took a step back even though he knew it made him look like a chicken and served Ryan's purpose. "I'm not. I wouldn't do that."

They stared at each other. It was a stand off. Seth was no match for Ryan. He averted his eyes.

A minute passed. Seth cleared his throat. "There's bandaids and stuff in the bathroom. You know, for your..." He pointed to Ryan's cut.

Ryan's hand automatically traced the open wound. He looked over his shoulder at the bathroom door and then fixed his eyes back on Seth.

"Have a shower and just...relax. I'll get you some clothes and some food. You must be hungry, because I'm starving. I don't think I've eaten since breakfast. And even though breakfast is supposed to be the most important meal of the day, I think lunch and dinner are pretty important too and since I skipped those, I could use food. You?"

The strain in Ryan's shoulders seemed to ease. His fingers relaxed. Ryan nodded. "Okay."

Seth barely made out his words. He felt his heart rate slow and ease back to normal. "Okay? Okay, then. I'll, uh, I'll just go and you...you do your thing."

Seth didn't spare another minute. He turned and walked out the doors, leaving Ryan alone.

* * *

With Seth gone, Ryan took his first easy breath. He still had reservations. There wasn't a person alive who didn't want to just help someone and want nothing in return. Everyone wanted something in return. It had set him on edge. Truth was, he'd been on his own for too long. He'd forgotten how to feel. How to show gratitude. How to accept help. For all Seth's awkward, almost dorky behaviour, he was a decent guy. Over the short time he'd known him, he'd treated him well. And there was something innocent about him; something that made Ryan feel a little peace -though, he would never admit that out loud. Seth was like an elastic band. It was like, no matter how hard he pushed, Seth wouldn't back down, he kept coming back more resilient than before. Ryan wondered what it would take to make him snap. He really didn't want to know. He didn't want Seth to break. It almost hurt to think about it.

Ryan stepped into the bathroom --the pain in his leg making the journey seem like a mile instead of a few measly feet. The room was spotless. There were clean towels hanging on a rack, fluffy and the colour of peaches; soap sitting on the counter, three perfect white bars stacked like a pyramid; bottles of shampoo and conditioner lining the tub basin, each labelled in French with pictures of white and pink lilies.

The room smelled like flowers -not the cheap, fake, bottled kind, but like real flowers. Ryan found the bouquet on a shelf beside the mirrored cabinet. He pulled on it and exposed the organized innards. Gauze, tape, bandaids and antiseptic solution stared back at him. He pulled it all out and set it on the counter, flipping the cabinet door and getting his first real look at himself. What he saw shocked him.

This wasn't his face. These weren't his eyes looking back at him. He wanted to smash his refection.

Theresa was gone and everything was fucked-up. He, was fucked-up. Ryan felt the walls pushing in on him. He took in a deep, calming breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them again and looked in the mirror, all he saw was a face. It didn't matter how busted up and broken it looked. It could have belonged to him or anyone else. It didn't matter what was in his eyes.

Turning, he looked back at the tub. He didn't want to get anything dirty, but the likelihood of that was impossible. There was dirt in his hair and blood on his face and all that had to go somewhere. The basin was gleaming white. He'd have to clean it after he was done.

The water poured easily from the taps when he twisted on them and it took him back a little. Getting the right temperature, he pulled off his boxers and stepped under the spray. The water pressure felt good on his neck and back. He moved around slowly, letting the water cascade over his shoulders and eventually flowing onto his chest. It seemed he could stay under the water forever, letting all the noise in his head fade into the echo of the bathroom. He lathered and scrubbed until his skin felt raw. Soap got into his cuts and stung but reminded him he was alive. Ryan felt strange washing his hair with something that probably cost more than anything his mother had ever owned. But, as the blood and dirt melted away, he didn't give it a second thought.

The minutes ticked by and the water continued to pound down on him. It was too hot. Ryan felt dizzy. He lowered herself to sit on the edge of the tub and water slipped off his body and onto the floor. Ryan wasn't used to this. It was too...normal. He was used to dirty showers that stunk of puke and housed colonies of bugs. He felt strange. And suddenly, he got the urge to do something he hadn't done in years... Cry. He wanted to cry. He wasn't even sure he remembered how. And if he did, he wasn't positive he'd ever be able to stop. Pulling himself up, despite his body's protest, Ryan steeled himself against the tears in his eyes. What the fuck was the matter with him? Only pussies cried. Holding back his anger, he turned off the taps and watched the remaining water slip off his body and slide down the drain.

The tiles felt cold under his feet and he relished in the change of temperature. Steam billowed off his skin and made the room a hazy sauna. Wrapping the peach towel around his waist, he stepped up to the counter and picked up the bottle of antiseptic. Splashing some on his facial wounds, he waited for the sting to subside before he breathed again. He replaced everything where he'd found it and mopped the water on floor with his underwear. He frowned, feeling like a fool.

Putting his dirty clothes back on was pointless, so Ryan walked out of the bathroom in just the towel. He was still alone. That was fine with him, because it meant he could just take a moment to look around, to see how the rich lived.

Ryan looked at the fancy art on the tables and walls and scoffed. These people knew how to waste their money.

The bed called to him. He stepped down and allowed himself to sit on the edge of it. It smelled clean like his shirts used to on laundry day when he lived with Theresa and her mom.

Ryan shook his head. This place was surreal. Clean sheets. Clean towels. Clean everything. It had been a long time since he'd had all three of those things at once. His eyes felt heavy and his head was clouded. How had he gotten here? He was so tired. Seventeen and so bloody tired.

Letting his body fall back, he allowed his eyes to close. The bed was soft under his back and masked the pain in his ribs. He felt weightless, secure. Safe.


	12. 11

Thank you to those who have reviewed and those that continue to review. I really appreciate it. :)

This is rated R.

* * *

Seth didn't know what to do first. He stood in the middle of the kitchen trying to make up his mind. Since when was it so hard to make a decision...? Probably right about the time Ryan got almost naked. His brain was still in overdrive and his body was giving him mixed reviews. 

Shower, clothes and food. Three things he and Ryan had in common...as in, they both needed them. But not at the same time, and certainly not together. 'Cause Seth was pretty sure he would pass out if it came to that. Without another thought about it, Seth ran up to his room, shucking his clothes on his bathroom floor and running the water tepid. A cold shower wasn't totally out of the question, but Seth had never been a fan of cold water. Haphazardly soaping up and shampooing his hair, Seth rinsed and dried himself off. Pulling on a novelty tee and a pair of jeans, he shot down the hall and entered his parents' bedroom.

Invading his father's closet, he pulled apart the racks of clothing looking for something that would fit Ryan and wouldn't make him look like a middle-aged stuffy lawyer...not that Ryan could ever be mistaken for someone middle-aged, or even a lawyer for that matter. But still, he couldn't very well give him something ugly and outdated. He found a pair of blue jeans way in the back. Seth recognized them as the pants his father claimed the drycleaners had shrunk. At the time, he and his mother had tried to keep straight faces when they both knew it was because his father has grown out of them. Too many bagels. The man was a bagel fiend! He was glad his dad had kept them now, though. He grabbed a shirt from his own closet and zoomed down the hallway and stairs. His whole body felt ionized, like he was one giant ball of energy despite being desperate for some sleep.

Seth's stomach wouldn't shut up. The next obvious thing to do was get some food. Setting the clothes on the island, he pulled out a bunch of stuff from the fridge: pickles, lettuce, tomatoes, sliced meat, cheese and some condiments.

The plan was to make sandwiches. It was the only thing he could make that he knew he couldn't screw up. It was a mindless task that he welcomed. It gave him time to think about what he could do to get Ryan to trust him, and, more than that, what he could do to help him. Why he wanted to had long left his brain. Now, there was no going back. He couldn't and wouldn't toss Ryan out. Even if Ryan hated him for it. Not that he was forcing him to stay...

He thought he could imagine how it was for Ryan, not having anything stable or reassuring for years and then having someone come along and offer him help. Everything had to feel strange. It was like a person suddenly gone blind and trying to figure out how to gauge their steps. One false move and they could come tumbling down, crashing hard. Seth would be sceptical, too.

Water dripped from his hair and slid down his neck, pooling at his collar and soaking into the fabric of his shirt, sending chills down his spine. His wet shirt clung to his back and irritated his skin, making it itch. Something itched inside his brain at the same time, only he couldn't reach in and scratch it like he could his skin. His parents were going to be back two days from now, and, while he planned on hiding Ryan for a while,('cause, really, how often did they go into the pool house?) he couldn't rely on that tactic forever. So, he would have to tell them, eventually. He just hoped that by that time Ryan trusted him enough to want to stay.

Topping off the sandwiches with a second slice of bread, Seth returned the unused ingredients. Taking a deep breath, he looked out the window and toward the pool house. He couldn't hide in the kitchen forever. He had to face Ryan. It was now or never.

He tucked the clothes under his arm and grabbed a couple Maintain Dews from the refrigerator, securing them under the opposite arm. Carefully, he picked up the plates where he'd set the sandwiches and began the short trek. The sky was cracking with the first of the morning light. Seth blinked. The air was still cold and the sun wasn't quite bright, but it felt unnatural against his eyes all the same. Carrying the food through the backyard, he went into the open pool house door and spotted Ryan immediately.

Ryan was lying on the bed, his eyes closed. He was only wearing a towel. Seth faltered, nearly dropping his plate. He wasn't sure if Ryan was asleep or not so he approached the bed slowly, not wanting to startle him.

"Ryan?"

Ryan's eyes flickered open and he sat up too quickly for it to be a natural reaction.

"Hey," Seth said, setting the plates down on top of the comforter.

"Hey," he returned, without taking his eyes off the food.

"I brought you clothes. Uh, here." Seth held out the clothes. Ryan didn't make any attempts to take the clothing. Seth set them on the bed next to him. It was difficult not to stare at Ryan. He averted his eyes. "Hungry?"

Pushing a plate toward Ryan, Seth was satisfied when he picked up the sandwich and took a bite. He sat down at the edge of the bed. Ryan moved further away. Seth looked down at his food, suddenly not so hungry. He only had two days to break through Ryan's barriers and by the looks of things, it was going to take a miracle.

Something cold and wet was under his arm. The drinks. "Mountain Dew?" Seth tossed one to Ryan, overthrowing and sending the neon green drink cascading over the mattress and onto the floor. "Now you see why I didn't make the football team." Self-deprecating humour was a natural reaction.

Ryan's back went up. Now that he was away from everything familiar, he flinched at the littlest things. Ryan couldn't seem to relax. His muscles were tense and his body rigid, at any moment ready to spring.

"Here. Take mine," Seth offered and placed the soda in front of Ryan. Seth stood, abandoning his sandwich and retrieved the can, thankful it hadn't exploded and caused a giant mess.

Choosing this time to sit on the wicker chair, Seth observed Ryan. He took his time eating, even though it was obvious he was starving. The towel seemed to get smaller and smaller, covering less and less skin in Seth's imagination and he had to shake himself out of looking at it when he'd finally realized what he was doing. Seth knew this was the kind of behaviour that pushed Ryan further and further out of his grasp, but he was a teenage boy and he had the libido of one. It would be a lie to say that he didn't want Ryan -and a bad one at that, but there was more than just physical need behind his reasoning for wanting to help Ryan. Much more. But for all of Seth's abundant use of language and ability to talk, he couldn't seem to put that reason into words.

When Ryan had eaten the last bite of his sandwich, he sat back and opened the Mountain Dew, draining it.

"You can have mine, too, if you're still hungry."

Ryan seemed to think it over before he reached for the plate and began to eat Seth's sandwich as well.

Drumming his fingers along the arms of the chair, Seth tried to think of interesting things to say, but he came up blank. Everything he thought of sounded stupid. And it really was hard to think of meaningful things to say when Ryan was barely covered in a swatch of a towel. As much as Seth liked to talk, there were still certain subjects he didn't know how to broach.

"Can I wash my clothes?"

Seth was so busy thinking of things to say he barely heard Ryan's request. "What?"

Ryan's cheeks were pink and he wasn't looking at Seth. "My clothes. Can I wash them?"

"Your clothes? Uh, yeah, sure, dude. Is there something wrong with the clothes I brought you? I mean, I know they're not that stylish and not something you would usually wear, but, uh, they're clean and dry."

"I just... I like my clothes."

Seth nodded, though, he still didn't understand.

Given the green light, Ryan stood and collected his clothes from the bathroom and pool house floor. Piling the dirty plates on top of each other, Ryan picked them up and Seth led him into the house.

In the laundry room, Seth stood back and read the directions on a box of soap while Ryan dumped his clothes inside the washer. It seemed simple. Add soap, turn on the machine and half-an-hour later everything was clean. Only, Seth had no idea how to operate the damn washing machine. He pressed buttons and turned a dial and waited for something to happen. When nothing did, he banged on it hoping to illicit a response. Again, the washer did nothing but gloat.

Frustrated, Seth leaned against the machine and turned to look at Ryan. "Do you have any idea how to work this thing? Rosa usually does the wash. This is, like, complicated. We should give her a raise."

Seth thought he saw Ryan smirk. But that couldn't be, could it? He reached over, his arm barely brushing Seth's and tapped the 'start' button.

"Oh. Well, there ya go." This time, he was positive he saw Ryan smirk, if only for a second. That was new. And it felt awesome. Seth's appetite was back. "Wanna go to the kitchen and see if there's anything else to eat?"

Ryan shrugged.

"Sure you do, come on." Seth almost put his arm around Ryan, but at the last second withdrew. He had to keep reminding himself to take things slow. Seeing Ryan's temper in action had been enlightening and he was positive he never wanted to be on the receiving end of it.

Back in the kitchen, Seth rummaged through the fridge and pulled out some cold Chinese food. "Dumpling?"

"I'm good," Ryan answered, shifting his weight.

"Dude, you can put those plates down now."

Ryan looked down at his hands as if suddenly realizing he was holding them. Turning, he set them in the sink and turned on the tap. Picking up the soap, he squirted some into the sink and was about to pick up the sponge when Seth stopped him. His hand moulded over Ryan's, wetting it in the process. "You don't have to do that."

Ryan pulled his hand away. "I have to do something to pay you back."

Seth mentally kicked himself. Slow. The last thing he needed was for Ryan to come on to him again, because he wasn't so sure he would be able to resist. And that would be the worst betrayal of them all. If he gave in to Ryan's games, he could kiss any hope of trust goodbye. Ryan was testing him, feeling him out.

He smiled, hoping the inner workings of his brain were not written on his forehead. Ryan didn't need to know how nervous he made him. "No, I mean... Just relax, okay? You're the guest. Besides, we have a dishwasher," Seth said, sliding it open for emphasis. He picked up the wet plates, set them inside the dishwasher and flipped it shut. "And you don't have to pay me back for anything. I should be paying you back." Seth looked at the floor. He didn't want to see Ryan's reaction.

"This is a nice house," Ryan observed after several moments.

"It's just a house," Seth said, trying to downplay the grandeur of it all.

"What do you parents do anyway?"

"My parents? Well, my dad's a lawyer and my mom develops houses or something..." Seth took a moment to think about it, coming up blank. "I don't really know what she does, actually. She tried to explain it to me once, but I think I fell asleep."

Leaning against the counter, still in only a towel, Ryan kept his eyes on the marble top and traced the swirls with his fingers. "What's going to happen when they get back?"

"What'dya mean?" Seth was half-distracted. He was searching the boxes of Chinese for something edible.

"To me. What's going to happen to me? I doubt you told them you were bringing me home." Ryan caught Seth's eye, stared so intensely it hurt.

Seth dropped his hand and set the box of take-out back on the counter. "It'll be cool. We'll just keep you in the pool house until I tell them. Mom'll have to be won over, but dad'll be fine with it right away."

Ryan scoffed. "You're sure of that," he said. "Must be nice."

Seth didn't know how to respond to that. Because, yeah, it had been nice growing up in a stable home with parents he could always rely on. And he wasn't going to apologize for it. Not even to Ryan. One thing he would do from then on was appreciate it, because he couldn't ever imagine being in Ryan's shoes. He might be able to empathize, but he would never truly understand.

The silence that followed was prolonged. The air felt stiff and thick like a wall between them.

Seth shifted, avoiding looking in Ryan's direction. "Laundry's probably done. I'll go put it in the dryer."

"Sure you can handle it?"

Seth stopped. Did Ryan just make a joke? After the tension that had just arisen, Seth didn't think he could trust his own ears, so he continued to the laundry room without looking back.

He was glad when Ryan didn't follow. After putting the clothes into the dryer, Seth took a seat and rested his head in his hands. The sound of Ryan's jeans turning in the dryer was lulling him to sleep. The soft ping each time they rolled around was just enough to keep Seth from drifting off. Finally the timer went off and he pulled out the clothes. They were warm and smelled like Tide. Not bothering to fold them, he carried them back into the kitchen.

Ryan hadn't moved.

The sun had chased away the remaining darkness outside and left Seth feeling light and dreadfully tired.

"Here," he said and handed them to Ryan.

Ryan took the clothes but didn't speak.

"We should probably try to sleep. You must be tired; I know I am. Uh, you can just sleep in the pool house. That should be okay, right?"

"I guess." Ryan's voice was stale, cold and dead, belaying any real hints of what he was thinking.

Seth no longer had the energy to worry if he'd said the wrong thing again. In the morning...er, afternoon, when he woke up he was sure he could smooth things over. But for now, the lure of sleep was just too much to ignore. "If you need anything, my room's upstairs. We'll work on what to tell my parents tomorrow." And with that, he headed out of the kitchen and straight up the stairs, not stopping until he got to his bedroom and crashed on his bed.

* * *

Ryan POV next chapter. ;) 


	13. 12

Thanks you to everyone who has replied and to those that continue to reply. You guys blow me away!

This is rated R.

* * *

Late nights were like emotional minefields. They fucked with your head. Ryan had days when he forget who to blame and nights where names floated off his tongue with a bitter aftertaste. He felt as though he was sitting through the calm before the storm. Something had to give. Ryan was alert and ready. 

The sun, coming in through the open blinds, felt hot on his skin. His clothes were balled-up and crumpled beside him on the bed. Ryan looked at them. The knees of his jeans were frayed, the back pocket so badly ripped, it had no hope of being re-sewn. His t-shirt and undershirt were newly bleached, but the grayness from much wear had settled into the collar and armpits. Boxer shorts were the only thing he had bothered to put on and those felt warm and comfortable. They weren't the best clothes, but they belonged to him.

Walking across the room, his body sore and weakened, Ryan pulled the blinds closed, watching the crystal blue waters recede and the stark whiteness replace it. It had to be a dream. Everything had to be a dream. If he allowed himself to trust it, what would happen then? And that kid, Seth, what the hell was going through his mind?

It was best to get out of here before he did trust Seth completely. It was then when he was most liable to be hurt.

Ryan resumed his position on the bed. He sat and waited. Any minute he was sure Seth was going to come back through those glass doors and state his real intentions, tell him what he _really_ wanted.

He should just grab his clothes and leave. Just get up and go. Leaning back, the bed felt nice and cushioned the aches in his body. His eyes were so heavy and his legs were so tired, he knew he didn't have the strength to leave. But tomorrow was a different story. Tomorrow, he would run.

Edging up to the head of the mattress, Ryan relaxed and let his eyes close. Darkness came soon and he followed it, allowing himself to let down his guard and just sleep.

---

Ryan woke with a start. He sat straight up in bed, blinking in the darkness, straining to see. The room was muggy and he found it hard to breathe. Checking out his surroundings, it took him a moment to remember where he was. It was so quiet. There were no city noises to alert him of trouble, no police cruisers blaring their lights, no drunken fighting in the apartment next door, not even the sound of Theresa lightly snoring next to him. He never thought he would miss that. But right now, in a pool house, in the middle of a big bed, he missed those sounds.

It must have been late. When he'd gone to bed it had been the beginning of the day, and now the sun was gone and he'd slept through it. His things were where he'd left them, nothing had been touched.

He'd had that dream again. The one where every one of his apparitions fused together and made him ache for a childhood he'd never lived.

He allowed his head to sink back into the cool pillows and tried to push down the visions that had tainted his rest and dragged him out of his sleep. Yet, there he was again, sinking into memories so badly mangled and hidden, they only appeared in his dreamworld and lingered just after he woke, until he could haul them back into the recesses of his mind where they belonged.

It was like being on top of a tall building and someone saying not to look down. He couldn't help but look down. Down far into the abyss, trying not to remember those times when he was a child...when he was small and defenceless...when his mother was drunk and her boyfriend was on the hunt...when he had to hide under the porch at the back of the house, his face pressed into the warm dirt so he wouldn't be found...the smell of sour whiskey and turpentine locked in the air...the smack of boots on the gravel inches from where he lay, taunting him...and then, worse, much worse... milk-white fingers...a laugh he once found soft and warm, cackling in his eardrums... No!

It was quiet. The pain was like a pin prick. But it was always there. Lurking under the surface, waiting to bust open and spill out. It almost consumed him. Until he remembered he was in a goddamn pool house! And he wasn't a child anymore. He wiped the remnants of his past from his mind.

Sleep was still baring down on him. He shouldn't sleep anymore. He had to escape. But the lure of rest was too strong to ignore, too hard to resist. Letting his eyes close again, he embraced the comfort of the mattress and the temptation of sleep for the second time.

The sun was in his eyes. There were birds chirping outside the window and it was like they were mocking him with their song. Tomorrow had come and gone. And he was still here. In this...place. In fucking suburbia. It was such a huge joke. He didn't belong with all the soccer moms and their 2.2 children, and yet, here he was.

He'd had a strange night of dreams and memories...nightmares, really. And now he was awake, and possibly, in the biggest dream of them all.

Grabbing his clothes from the bottom of the bed, Ryan hastily dressed and walked into the backyard. The air was hot and the sky was cloudless and still. Everything was still. Ryan wondered where Seth was.

Seth. He didn't know what to make of him. He seemed to be okay. He was the type of guy that still looked for prizes in the bottom of cereal boxes. The innocent type. As much as Ryan tried to deny it, he liked that about him. Maybe that's what he was doing with him: looking for the prize inside. Maybe he saw something Ryan couldn't. Or maybe he just wanted something to play with... Ryan wasn't sure he'd ever be able to figure him out.

Opening the door, Ryan let himself in the house and spotted Seth instantly. Seated on the floor, a box of cereal and jug of milk by his side, Seth held a game controller in his hands, his eyes fixed to the television. Ryan stared. He'd been asleep for a whole day. An entire twenty-four hours plus. And Seth was eating cereal and playing video games like an almost-stranger hadn't just walked into the room.

Ryan shifted his weight so he was leaning against the doorframe. "Hey."

Seth looked up. "Hey," he mumbled through a mouthful of milk and Fruit Loops and then swallowed.

Ryan folded his arms across his chest. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

Seth tensed. He placed the controller on the ground in front of him and angled his body to look at Ryan. "Uh, well... I checked on you and you seemed okay. I mean, you seemed like you needed it, so, I, uh, just left you alone."

Ryan straightened. "You watched me sleep?!"

Seth scratched behind his ear. Ryan had noticed he did this often when he appeared nervous. He was a weird, jumpy kind of guy, like no one Ryan had ever met before. "No! Is that how I made it sound?" He started in with the hands. Seth used his hands more than any person he'd met in his life. "I_ totally_ didn't mean it like that. At all. Dude, it's just..." The ear again. Ryan waited for him to continue. "See, I knocked on the door and you didn't answer, so I just kinda peeked in and saw that you were still sleeping, so I just thought, you know, you'd wake up when you were ready. Totally didn't spy on you or, like, do something creepy like watch you sleep. That's just...you know, not something I would do. I swear!"

Ryan relaxed. His stomach groaned. He hadn't eaten anything since the sandwiches Seth had made when they'd first arrived at the house.

Seth scrambled on the floor, stretching out and grabbing a second controller. He held it up to Ryan. "Wanna play?"

Ryan thought about it for a minute. When was the last time he'd played video games --or any kind of game for that matter? Seeing no harm in it, he took the grey piece of plastic and sat down on the couch.

"Cereal?" Seth offered, holding the open box of Fruit Loops up. Ryan nodded and reached for them. He opted to eat straight from the box.

They played some sort of Ninja game. At first Ryan sucked, but after the third game, to both their surprise, he was beating Seth easily. It was so normal. Something Ryan would have done...before everything, that he almost forgot the circumstances that had brought them together.

---

Later that afternoon, Ryan found himself floating in the middle of the pool. The sun beat down on him, heating his legs and stomach. The bruises stood out in contrast to his pale skin, but the water felt nice. He was aware that Seth kept staring at him.

"What?" he finally said, out of sheer annoyance.

Seth startled, almost tipping himself over. "What?"

"You're staring."

"Am I?"

Ryan gave him a pointed look.

"Okay, yeah. I just... " Seth treaded water with his hand, leading his pool chair toward Ryan. He reached out, tentatively touching a scar on Ryan's side. "Where'd you get that scar?"

Ryan's eyes drifted to Seth's hand and Seth immediately pulled it away. "Sorry, was that too personal? You don't have to tell me. Just, you know, forget I asked." Seth looked away, pushing off the side of the pool with his foot to distance them.

Ryan had the oddest feeling flowing through him. He couldn't place it. When was the last time he'd had that kind of reaction from someone touching him? Tracing the scar himself, he closed his eyes and remembered. There was no sense lying. "One of my mom's ex-boyfriends thought it would be fun to throw me into a table."

Seth eyes crinkled to block out the sun as he looked back at Ryan. His mouth twisted sourly. "So your mom had a lot of boyfriends I take it?"

Ryan touched the cool water, let it slip through his fingers as he thought about the question. "There was one that painted houses. He did this," he said, thumbing the scar again. He looked away, toward the sky. "He was a real bastard. A lot were bums." Sparing a glance at Seth, he wondered if he should continue. It wasn't like it mattered. He wouldn't be here much longer anyway. So why did it matter what Seth thought of him? "But, there was this one guy who worked construction. He was a real good guy; treated me okay...treated my mom good. I guess that's why they broke up: she wasn't used to it. She kept finding little things about him that bothered her until she couldn't stand to be in the same room with him. He moved back to Texas, said if I was ever out there to give him a call."

"But, you wouldn't, like, go there, would you?" Was that panic in Seth's voice?

"Maybe," Ryan said, sliding off the chair and into the water. He swam to the other end of the pool, away from Seth's curious eyes. "There's no where else for me to go, really."

"You're wrong. Here." Seth was adamant. "You could stay here as long as you wanted."

It struck Ryan had naive Seth really was. How different their lives had been. "Your parents are probably going to call social services the minute they see me."

"I wouldn't let them!"

"Right, well..." Ryan heaved himself out of the pool. Water pooled at his feet, cooling the hot tiles under his skin.

Seth jumped off the chair, ungraceful in his actions and making a giant splash. He swam toward Ryan, looking up at him. "I wouldn't, I swear it! And if they did we could run away."

Ryan scoffed. "Leave all this?"

"You don't know what it's like here." Seth looked down.

Ryan shook his head. "Looks pretty good from where I'm standing."

"You don't understand... I'm a social retard. Everyone hates me. Everyone. You think I wouldn't trade all of this just to be normal?"

Ryan shrugged. "What's normal?"

"You know, like everyone else. If I could just be like everyone else...."

"Why? What would that change?"

"For one, I wouldn't get beat up everyday by every damn jock at my school."

Ryan grabbed a towel and began to dry himself off. He hated the way Seth was starting to get to him. When was the last time he'd had a day like today? When was the last time he'd been allowed to be the teenager he was? When had he just _talked_ to someone? It was all so fucked up. And he didn't need to know anymore about Seth. He didn't need to feel anything more than indifferent toward him.

A car door slammed. Ryan could hear voices coming from the front of the property. The parents. This was it. His moment in paradise was coming to an end.

"Listen, Ryan?" Seth had gotten out of the pool and was a foot away.

"What?"

Seth fidgeted. "When I introduce you to my parents... I mean, maybe I should tell them about you first, you know. So, just, I dunno stay in the pool house and I'll explain things." Ryan quirked his eyebrow and tried not to flinch. He'd forgotten about the bruises on his face. "That wasn't, like, an order... I didn't mean it to sound like that. I just meant...well, I think it'll go better this way..." Ryan held his tongue.

"Okay, I'll just go." Seth grabbed a towel and wrapped it around himself. He cut across the lawn and was poised to slide open the door when he turned back and scratched behind his ear. "And, you know, let's not say exactly how we met. I think we'll have to work up to that one."

"Whatever." It wasn't like he wasn't aware that Seth would be ashamed of how they met...of what Ryan was, but hearing it out loud was something completely different. It made Ryan feel dirty and used --something he always tried to avoid. Fuck! Ryan gathered his clothes in his arms and headed into the pool house, closing the door behind him.


	14. 13

Certain lines belong to The Schwartz and Fox.

Thank you for all the wonderful replies.

This is rated R.

* * *

Seth was panicking. He might even be hyperventilating. The shallower his breath got the more he struggled with the door handle. Thinking about it, if he were hyperventilating, he could use it to his advantage. A trip to the hospital would relieve him from telling his parents about Ryan.

Not that it was a big deal. Because it wasn't. What was the worst they could do? Yell at him? Send him to his room? No, those weren't the things he was worried about. Telling him that Ryan had to go? _That _was what was making him insane. He'd promised Ryan. Made him feel like it was a done deal. That he would get to stay. That there wasn't even a possibility that they would make him leave. And now, Seth didn't have a clue if that was going to turn out to be the truth. And if it wasn't, he was just going to be one more person that lied to him. One more person that let Ryan down.

Seth could see his mother in the kitchen. He took a deep breath before he opened the door and walked into the house.

"Mom, I need to talk to you. Where's dad?" There. Just cut to the chase. No sense delaying things.

Kirsten turned, looked Seth up and down and cocked her head to the side. "No, 'hi mom, how was your trip?'"

Seth rolled his eyes. "Hi, mom, how was your trip?"

Kirsten smiled. "It was nice. Your father's always surprising me. When we got to the hotel, he-"

"Uh, please! Only child here. Just keep the rest to yourself. I don't need to know these things."

Kirsten laughed and shook her head. "Any calls?"

Seth leaned against the counter, avoiding eye contact. "Yeah, some. I left them on the machine. Listen, I really need to talk to you and dad."

Picking up the pile of unopened mail, she began to sort through it. "What about?" She didn't look up.

Seth shifted his weight, feeling the coolness of his swimming trunks against his bare legs. "Just...stuff."

"Seth!"

"What?"

"Go change; you're dripping water all over the floor. Did you get your suit out for tomorrow?"

Seth looked down at the water pooling under his feet. "Huh, no. What's tonight?"

"Seth, don't do this. I told you a million times."

Seth shook his head, totally confused. "Drawing a blank here."

Kirsten set down the mail and gave her full attention to Seth. "The party?"

"Still nothing."

"Your grandfather's birthday party."

Seth nodded. Something about cilantro and white lights sprung to mind. "Oh, right. With all the old people and the schmoozing and what not. I don't really have to go to that, do I?"

"Seth."

"What?"

Kirsten sighed, returning to the pile of unopened envelopes. "Go set out your suit. Oh, and you'd better try it on to make sure it still fits."

Seth took a few steps closer, all the while dripping water onto the kitchen floor. "But, mom, I _have_ to talk to you!"

"Seth, come on. Don't start."

Aware that he was whining, Seth opted to pout instead of pulling his usual tantrum. Starting things off on the wrong foot was not going to help his case. Especially if he expected his mother to allow Ryan to stay.

"Fine, but I have to talk to you after. It's important."

"Sure, sweetie."

Seth cringed. Why did mothers always have to say things like that? He hoped she didn't do it in front of Ryan.

Treading up the stairs, Seth could hear his mother pick up the phone to make last minute arrangements for the party. 'No cilantro,' he heard her say. Seth shook his head. He loved his grandfather, he did, but he hated how crazy he always made his mother.

* * *

Kirsten had been on hold for twenty minutes. Normally this would be around the time she would hang up, but everything had to be perfect for the party. If one flower was wilted...if one light was out of place...if one sprig of cilantro touched a piece of food...her father would notice. She didn't know why she put up with him. She supposed it was because he was all she had left. Well, there_ was_ her sister. But she hadn't heard from Hailey in months. She was probably off exploring the world, being carefree. She loved and hated her for that. She understood her father in a way no one else did. Got to deal with mini-crisis after mini-crisis while Hailey sunbathed and sipped margaritas. Losing her mother had been hard on her, but her father had never really gotten over it. So she put up with the trophy girlfriends and the excessive demands because she didn't want to lose him too.

Sandy whizzed into the kitchen, his smile as bright and charming as ever."Honey, have you seen my beach towel? You know, the one with the surfboards on it. The waves are six feet!"

Kirsten rested the phone on her shoulder. "Did you check the pool house?"

"Good idea." Sandy smiled. It was the smile that had made her fall in love with him. Coming behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist, took a nip at her neck. "I knew I married you for a reason."

Kirsten snorted. "Funny, I can't remember why _I_ married _you_."

"It's the eyebrows. You couldn't resist them. It's a sign of power, you know," he said, wiggling them to emphasize his point.

"Well," she said, turning in his arms, "then you must be the most powerful man in the world."

"Tell your father that one." Sandy leaned down and dropped a kiss on her nose. She arched up and captured his lips. Reluctantly, they parted. "You know, the surfing's not really that great. I mean, there are a few clouds in the sky. It might rain. I could just stay here and we could-"

"I can't. I have to finalize everything for tomorrow." Just remembering the phone, she untangled it from between them and put the receiver to her ear. Still nothing but background music.

"How many birthday's does your father have a year? Wasn't that thing last week for his birthday?"

"That was an office party."

"Yeah, but isn't this the fifth time we're celebrating? How old is he again? Eighty?"

Kirsten sighed. "Sandy."

"I'm going," he said, holding his hands in front of himself in a gesture that reminded her of Seth.

Kirsten watched him walk out the door, lost in the moment. She was startled by Seth's voice. "Where's dad going?"

"The pool house," she said, turning. "Apparently the surf is good. Did you try on the suit?"

"The pool house?! He can't go in there."

Before she had a chance to question him, Seth zipped past her and headed to the pool house. Watching curiously, her attention wavered as someone came back on the telephone line.

"Hi, yes. This is Kirsten Cohen calling to finalize plans for tomorrow..."

* * *

Ryan was positive he was going back to Chino. He started to pack his bag without even changing out of the swimming trunks Seth had leant him. He didn't have much to pack. Just some clothes and basic necessities.

It was actually not too bad living here. Just hanging out with Seth and not worrying if someone was going to break in, if Theresa was okay, if he had enough money to eat.... Theresa. Ryan got a pang in his stomach. He wondered how she was. It had only been a few days, but he knew she was better off than she'd been in a long time. With no time to dwell, Ryan inspected the pool house for things he might have left.

Walking out of the bathroom, he was surprised to find a man in the middle of the room. This was obviously Seth's dad. It wasn't how he'd pictured him. He wasn't nearly as tight-wound and business-like as he'd imagined. When Seth said he was a lawyer, Ryan had pictured some overweight, balding man. Someone who could have been one of his clients. Instead, he was in fairly good shape, with a full head of dark hair.

Ryan stared, sizing him up. He swore he saw pity in the other man's eyes.

"Who are you?"

Ryan straightened. "Whoever you want me to be." The reply was automatic. It was typically how he would have greeted someone that had combed the streets looking for him.

The embarrassment didn't come right away. It wasn't until Seth's father struggled for words that Ryan felt his cheeks get hot and his muscles tense.

"Uh..."

Seth stumbled through the door, winded. "I see you've met Ryan."

Ryan was surprised that he felt relieved by Seth's presence. Tearing his eyes from Ryan, Seth's dad looked at him. They seemed to be communicating silently. "Seth, a word, please."

"Yeah, dad, sure."

"Outside." His face was stern. Never a good sign in Ryan's experience.

"Yeah, cool. We'll be right back," Seth said, giving Ryan the thumbs up. Ryan watched Seth follow his father into the backyard. They stood facing each other. Ryan couldn't move. He was rooted in place.

Seth looked back at the pool house, saw Ryan watching and turned back to his father. He tried to smile, act casual. His knees were shaking. Fainting was not an option. Seth grabbed the back of a lounge chair and crossed his foot over the other one. "So, what's up?"

"Who's that?" Sandy said, jerking his head toward the pool house.

"That?" Seth looked back at the pool house. Ryan hadn't moved. He had a feeling his legs were just as weak. "Oh, that's Ryan."

Sandy crossed his arms over his chest. "Ryan, who?"

Seth stalled. "Uh,...you know-"

Not waiting for a proper answer, Seth was granted a reprieve. "What happened to him?"

This time Seth kept his eyes on his father. He didn't want to look at Ryan again and remember everything about the hospital and all that came after. "Some guy beat him up?"

"Is that a question or the truth?"

Seth sighed. "Dad, it's complicated."

"Does he go to your school?"

"Technically, he doesn't go to school."

Sandy's eyes narrowed, focussing on Seth. "What do you mean?"

Seth chose his words carefully. "I mean, he doesn't go to school. He's been having a hard time at home and I said he could stay here for a while."

"Why didn't you tell us he was here?"

"You just got home, like, ten minutes ago." Sandy wasn't taking that as an answer. Seth swallowed and looked at the ground. "I don't know."

"Where are his parents?"

"He doesn't have any," Seth mumbled.

"Seth."

"They abandoned him, okay?" Seth's voice was too loud, it echoed in his head. Letting go of the chair, he uncrossed his legs and paced. "Or they're dead. Something like that. I don't know."

They were both silent. Seth could feel his father's eyes boring into his back. He couldn't turn around; couldn't look him in the eye. If he did, he just might confess everything.

Sandy sighed, clapping Seth on the shoulder. "If it were up to me-" Sandy stopped. Seth could guess the rest. "You know your mother's not going to like this."

Turning, Seth looked his father in the eye, knowing his weakness for kids in trouble. If he could get his dad on his side... "Look, we can't just throw him out; he has nowhere else to go."

"What's going on?" Great. Things had been going so well. He was thisclose to getting his own way. And now his mother was going to ruin everything.

"Who's that?" Kirsten pointed to the pool house. Actually pointed. Seth was ready to die. "Seth, what did you do?"

* * *

Kirsten had been watching her son and husband from the kitchen window while she attempted to get off the phone. Something was up. She didn't have time to wait another twenty minutes before finding out. She knew how strained her husband and son's relationship had become. She knew Sandy would do anything to get Seth to look at him like he used to when he was a little boy. There had been a time when all Sandy had to do was put Seth on his shoulders and spin him around to be considered his hero. Nowadays, getting them in the same room was tricky and Seth was too big to be picked up, but Sandy still wanted to be his hero.

Hanging up, she marched out of the kitchen.

A hush fell over the backyard as Kirsten got her first good look at the source of their disruption. A teenage boy. A bruised and scarred teenaged boy. Even through the thick glass doors his blue eyes were unmistakable and the sadness they contained radiated like nuclear fission.

Kirsten's breath caught in her throat. He was looking right at her. It was as if he could see inside her. Feeling her cheeks burn, she kept her eyes level with his, refusing to look away.

Sandy settled his hand on Kirsten's wrist, patted it gently. "I've got it under control, honey."

"Someone better fill me in." Reluctantly, she tore her eyes away from Ryan and looked at Sandy.

"Seth brought home a friend and has been keeping him in the pool house."

"Seth!"

"Can we keep him, Mom?"

Looking at her son, Kirsten almost didn't recognize him. His eyes were alight with hope. It had been so long since she saw any sort of life springing from him. She felt relief and paralysing confusion. "Keep him? This is not a stray puppy, Seth!"

"I know, but he has nowhere to go! Dad?"

"Kirsten?" There it was in Sandy's eyes as well. Hope. Hope of reconnecting with his own son; hope for the potential good they could do; hope to regain something even she couldn't begin to understand. She'd been selfish. And Blind. She'd been soaking up Seth while Sandy barely got a crumb, allowing Seth to pull away from his own father while she reaped the benefits.

"This is your doing, you know," she accused Sandy.

"My doing?"

"You're the one that taught him compassion."

"Like that's a bad thing?" Seth said.

If she allowed this, everything would change. They were already ganging up on her. "We don't even know this kid."

"He won't be any trouble. I swear!"

"Honey, we can't just throw him out onto the streets."

The minute of silence that passed was weighted. Kirsten let her eyes fall on the pool house one more time. She saw the boy watching them. Watching _her_. Looking at Sandy, she saw his answer in his eyes. He wanted to help. Sandy always wanted to help. It was one of the things she loved most about him. Then, there was Seth. Seth with his big eyes full of pleas she couldn't deny.

"Fine. But he stays in the pool house."

Seth pumped his fist in the air and grabbed her around the shoulders. "Thanks, mom! You won't regret it," he said and hugged her before escaping her grasp and going inside the pool house.

Sandy had a goofy grin on his face.

"What?"

His smile got bigger. "Nothing."

Kirsten felt herself blush. Straightening out her clothes, she turned to go.

"Where're you going?"

Stopping, she looked back at Sandy. "He's going to need fresh towels and sheets and a toothbrush," she said, letting her eyes once again rest on the pool house. Catching Ryan's eye, she turned away, embarrassed. There was something about him that made her uneasy.

Turning to go, she felt the pressure of Sandy's hand on her forearm. "Hey." He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. She always felt so safe when he touched her. It felt like nothing could ever harm them. "You're doing a good thing here."

She knew that was the truth, but she couldn't help feeling like she'd just lost something. Something she hadn't realized she'd even had. "He looks like he's been in a fight. How do we know he's not dangerous?"

"We'll have to trust Seth's judgement."

"But-"

"Let me worry about it. He's probably just having trouble at home. You know what kids are like at this age. He'll probably only be here for a few days... a week at the most. In the meantime, I'll talk to Sam down at Child Services, see what I can find out about the kid and his situation. Maybe I can go to his house, smooth things over."

Kirsten sighed. "I haven't seen Seth this worked up about anything since the first time you took him to ComicCon. I'd almost forgotten what his smile looked like."

Kirsten walked straight into the house without a look back. Her heart felt heavy and she blamed her watery eyes on the pollen in the air. Because it would be stupid to cry.

Seth was a barely containable burst of energy. Everything had worked out. Ryan was staying. A giant weight had been lifted off his chest.

He barely stepped into the pool house before he started speaking. "Good news, dude, everything's cool. You can stay here." Seth's smile faltered. "One thing, though: what's your last name? You know, in case they ask. It would probably look really weird if they asked and I didn't know. "

"Atwood." Ryan's voice was distant. He still hadn't moved.

"Atwood," Seth repeated, feeling it out. "Mine's Cohen. Just, you know, in case."

Ryan nodded.

"Are you going to unpack?"

Ryan looked down at the bag by his feet. Seth watched him.

"Later," he finally said and moved it to the side with his foot.

Taking a seat in one of the wicker chairs, Seth struggled to contain his excitement. Ryan, however, was as cool and calm as always. He scrounged up a shirt from his bag and pulled it over his head.

Five full minutes of silence were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Seth watched as his mother came into the pool house, trailed by Rosa with fresh sheets.

His mother looked around, and if Seth wasn't mistaken, she seemed nervous. Rosa began to change the sheets. Ryan backed up so that he was almost against the wall. There was nothing calm or cool to his actions.

Instead of allowing the small space to explode from all the tension, Seth took the lead, beginning the introductions.

"Ryan, this is my mom. Mom, this is Ryan."

Clearing her throat, Kirsten stepped forward. "Welcome, Ryan. Welcome to our home. If you need anything...Rosa can help you." Rosa looked up and smiled. Ryan barely glanced her way.

Seth cringed, even he could decipher the false cheeriness in his mother's voice. It wasn't that she didn't mean those things. She did. She just didn't know how to say them and sound sincere, so she reacted with her saccharine-sweet stranger voice...otherwise known as Newpsie-speak.

Rosa, finished with remaking the bed, picked up the dirty sheets and carried them out of the pool house. Everyone watched her go, like she had been the beacon keeping them from becoming lost.

Kirsten folded her arms around her body. "Seth, can I talk to you?"

"Yeah, sure."

Seth followed his mother out of the pool house. It was odd that his parents kept pulling him to the side to talk to them. What was it about the pool house that made it so damning to talk there?

"Did you try on the suit?"

"Yeah, it was tight and the sleeves are too short."

Kirsten nodded slowly. "Okay. Tomorrow morning we'll have to go get you a new one. It's just as well. Ryan's going to need a suit, too."

"What?"

"What, did you think you were getting out of it?"

Seth could just imagine Ryan's reaction. "No, but... Mom, he's not going to want to go. Why can't we just hang out in the pool house while all the old people get drunk?"

Kirsten sighed. "This is important to your grandfather."

Seth knew that was code for 'this is important to me.' "Ryan doesn't even know grandpa."

"Seth."

"Fine." It was the least he could do after what his parents had just agreed to. That didn't make breaking the news to Ryan any easier.

Seth came back into the pool house. Ryan was sitting on the bed. He'd changed his trunks and was wearing his ripped jeans again.

Seth felt like he needed to apologize for his mother's behaviour. "She's normally not like that."

"Like what?"

Seth rolled his eyes. "All, you know, formal."

Ryan shrugged.

Tentative in his actions, Seth lowered himself onto the bed, sitting next to Ryan. "So, this is cool, right?"

"I guess."

"You don't mind wearing a suit, do you?"

Ryan quirked an eyebrow -the one with the deep scar. "A suit?"

"Yeah, my grandfather's birthday party is tomorrow. It's going to be boring. Typical Newport scene. People dress up all fancy, drink themselves silly and throw up in the flower beds. It's good fertiliser. But hey, I'm sure we can disappear once my mom gets a few glasses of wine into her."

Ryan didn't respond. Seth got the feeling he'd said the wrong thing again.


	15. 14

* * *

Thank you for the replies. Much thanks to Elzed for discussing some things with me. Thank you! 

This is rated R.

* * *

The sun was shining, the air was hot and they were shopping indoors in a brightly lit boutique cool enough to keep the rich socialites' faces from melting. It was a far cry from Chino.

Ryan didn't want to touch anything. He didn't want to look at anything. He didn't want to be here at all. It was Seth that had dragged him out of a sound sleep with promises of breakfast. A bagel in the car wasn't what he'd been expecting. Food was food, though. Even food on the go still filled a stomach.

The car ride had been quiet. Seth played with the radio stations until his mother swatted his hand away and turned it off. Seth pouted in the front seat reminding Ryan of how very sixteen he still was.

They had to wait for someone to twist the lock to let them in the store. This alone was enough to have Ryan seriously considering making a run for it. If it weren't for his bruised ribs and sore leg, he just might have. Once inside Kirsten had been swept away by some woman wearing too much perfume and a string of pearls while he and Seth were pushed toward a rack of suits.

Ryan watched as Seth tried on suit after suit. When Seth asked him what he thought, Ryan shrugged. They all looked the same to him. Black with buttons. Kirsten, as he'd been told to call her, kept her eyes on Ryan from across the room when she didn't think he noticed. Of course he noticed. He'd trained himself to notice these things.

Kirsten was so different from her dark-mopped husband and son. She was fair, pale blue eyes and peaches and cream skin. She wore expensive business suits and had a body of a woman half her age. She was a piece of Americana. A slice of Newport Beach -minus the plastic surgery. There didn't seem to be anything dangerous about her, but Ryan had learned long ago not to trust appearances alone.

Ryan felt awkward in his torn jeans and scuffed boots. He looked down at his feet on top of the luxurious carpet. Even the floor was better dressed than he was.

"Ryan? How about you try this one on?"

Ryan's head snapped up.

He was surrounded by three different people holding up various parts to some expensive suit. Everyone was doting on him like he was the one with the platinum credit card in his back pocket. It was unsettling.

Ryan stood, taking the pants, jacket and vest from the salespeople. He thought of telling them that there was no need to suck up to him, he wasn't paying, but there wasn't much point in that. They dispersed to harass Kirsten some more. At least she was in just as much agony as he was. He recognized the fake smile.

Crossing paths on the way to the dressing room, Seth stoped him. "Got mine, now it's your turn." He'd found a suit. It was draped over his arm shrouded in white plastic.

"What's the point of this?"

"Dude, I told you already. It's for my grandpa's party."

"Yeah, but why do I need a suit?"

"Because if you wear that," Seth said, looking Ryan up and down, "my grandpa might have a heart attack. Oh, maybe that's a good idea! Not that I don't like my grandfather, 'cause I do, it's just..."

Ryan drowned the rest out as he continued on to the dressing room. He'd go along with this for now. He'd try on the suit and act like everything was okay because right now he didn't have any other choice. All the money he and Theresa had saved had gone with her to Atlanta. Without money he was stuck.

* * *

Ryan didn't know what Kirsten expected in return for the suit, but he was sure he would get his answer soon enough. After they'd gotten back, everyone had gone their separate ways to dress for the big event: Seth to his room, Kirsten to hers and Ryan to the pool house.

If he had to admit anything, it would be that in this suit he could pass for a regular teenager. He could blend in, be one of them. But that was a stupid thing to admit to. Because he wasn't one of these people. He didn't have their money or their connections. He didn't want to. Besides, the split lip and bruised eye gave him away.

"Hey, look at you!"

Seth. Ryan hadn't heard him come in. He turned to face him.

"Hey."

"Dude, where's your tie?"

Ryan pointed to the bed where he'd thrown it earlier out of frustration. "Over there."

Seth leaned over and picked it up. "I know they're a pain in the ass, but if we don't wear one grandpa will have a fit."

Ryan took the tie from Seth's outstretched hand and put it around his neck. His fingers were clumsy as they worked an impossible task.

"Did you want me to...?"

Grudgingly, Ryan let his hands fall to his side. Seth smiled and moved closer. Fixing Ryan's collar first, he grabbed the ends of the tie and made one side longer than the other and then did a series of loops that Ryan couldn't follow. "There!" he said and turned Ryan around to face the mirror.

Ryan looked at himself. He could see Seth behind him, smiling.

"My grandpa tried to teach me when I was six, but all he really did was get frustrated and yell at me. When I finally stopped crying, my dad showed me."

"My dad didn't have much use for ties."

Seth cleared his throat. "I have the fondest memories of me and gramps, don't I?"

"Boys?!"

Seth scrambled away from Ryan at the sound of his mother's voice. "In here."

Ryan was weary of Seth and of Sandy, but nothing made him tense up as much as when Kirsten Cohen walked into a room.

She looked at them both, took the time to cast her untrusting eyes on Ryan and smile at Seth. "You go on and talk to your father, I want to speak to Ryan for a minute."

Ryan tensed. Still unclear if he was to provide his services for this woman. He couldn't get a good read from her. With Seth it was simple. Even if Ryan didn't know what he was thinking at first, eventually he just blurted it out.

Kirsten was different, guarded. It was something they had in common. He knew she was appraising him, trying to figure out if he was worthy of her trust. "The suit looks nice."

Ryan nodded. She should like the suit, it was her money that had paid for it.

"Listen, I think we got off on the wrong foot. Seth told me I didn't sound like myself last night-- well, those weren't the words he used, but I didn't want you to misinterpret me. " She laughed lightly, but it quickly faded. "I just wanted to let you know that I meant everything I said."

Ryan managed to find his voice. "Okay."

Kirsten stepped forward. Ryan prepared himself. He let his eyes go blurry in anticipation. He sensed more than saw her approach.

Despite how tense he made his muscles, how much he steeled himself, he still flinched when she reached out and touched him. Kirsten pulled her hand back. When Ryan finally let his eyes regain focus he could see the confusion etched on her face. "Sorry. It was... Your tie was a little crooked. I-I shouldn't have. Seth's always telling me he's not a kid anymore. I guess I just miss... Never mind."

Ryan could feel his heart beating hard in his chest. And just as quickly as she'd entered the pool house, she was gone and Ryan was left standing in the middle of the room still waiting for something to happen.

* * *

Caleb had steely blue eyes and an iron grip. He looked past Ryan instead of looking at him and when he shook Ryan's hand, he immediately wiped it with a cocktail napkin as if there was nuclear waste on it. Caleb was the kind of guy that treated his family with respect only when it was convenient. Ryan didn't like the way he kept pestering Seth, even jokingly, about not being strong enough, smart enough, suave enough. The sense of protectiveness that he had for Seth was odd. He didn't like it. Not one bit.

Caleb wasn't the kind of man to stick with one group of people for too long. He was off and speaking to more important people-with his trophy girlfriend on his arm-by the time Seth had completed the introductions. Ryan was glad. He didn't think he could be civil for too much longer.

Ryan was feeling odd enough as it was. Seth kept introducing him to people and parading him around like he was a show pony. This wasn't his scene. These weren't his people. He didn't know what to do, how to act. It was frustrating. He was convinced at any given moment that he was doing something wrong. They were fake people with fake laughs and fake pleasantries. They pretended to want to know things about each other and then gossiped about what they'd learned in the next breath. It wasn't real. He wanted a reaction he could understand.

When Seth got caught up talking to some people, Ryan made it a point to find Kirsten. He settled in beside her, leaning against the bar. She turned her head to look at him and smiled.

"Pretty dull party, huh?"

He noticed she was drinking a glass of white wine. A plan developed in his mind faster than he had time to think it through. His goal was to make her uncomfortable. Everyone showed their cards when they were pushed hard enough. Sometimes you just had to force their hand. "My mom used to drink a lot, too."

"What?" Ryan watched as Kirsten's eyes panned down to her half-filled glass. "Oh. I don't drink that much."

"You finished a whole bottle yourself," he said. "I was watching." He let his eyes pan down her body, making sure to stop at all the wrong places. Her reaction was predictable. She shifted her weight and moved her arms across her chest.

"I-"

Ryan smirked. He had her right where he wanted her. Ryan didn't belong here. She could see that.

"Kiki, come here. There are some people I'd like you to meet."

Seth's grandfather. Great. He had ruined everything. Kirsten allowed her father to lead her away while he watched her retreating form. Ryan picked up the glass of wine she'd set on the bar. In a few long gulps, he drained the glass.

Ryan walked away. He found Seth by the side of the pool.

"Oh, look, I think my grandpa is about to make his speech. Great, this should be nice and long. Oh, and boring. We can't forget boring. This is the prefect opportunity to duck out early, what'dya say?"

"Seth! We're going to take pictures." Grabbing him by the upper arm, Caleb led Seth away before Ryan could even open his mouth.

Ryan settled in amongst the masses and faced the platform where Caleb was raised above the onlookers -Seth and Kirsten at his side.

"I know you," someone whispered into his ear.

Ryan tried to turn around, to see who it was, but a hand came to his neck, fingers wrapping around the base and holding him in place. He stared straight ahead, not hearing a word Seth's grandfather had to say. Seth was still looking for him in the crowd.

"I've seen you around." Ryan's stomach dropped.

He could feel a hand on his hip smoothing down toward his zipper. Ryan tried to move, but the fingers against his neck tightened. He thought of fighting, of breaking free and socking the guy in the stomach, but that would just bring more attention where he wanted none. He just wanted to fade away, disappear. Go somewhere where no one knew him. But he knew that was an impossible dream. This was going to happen one way or the other, he might as well make the most of it. Besides, he still needed money to get to Atlanta.

"Not here," Ryan said, resigning. This was who he was. _All_ that he was to these people. He dropped his voice. "Two hundred."

"Lead the way."

Ryan looked over his shoulder. Sandy was watching them. "I'll meet you inside. Ten minutes."

* * *

Seth lost track of Ryan in the crowd. He reluctantly followed his grandfather and took the flute of champagne he pushed into his hand. Posing for photographs was the last thing he wanted to be doing.

He knew the kind of trouble that Ryan attracted. One mistake and his mother would send Ryan packing, he was sure of it. So it was his job to make sure everything went well. What worried Seth the most was that Ryan might take this opportunity to do something stupid. Ryan was an angry kid and there was no way to tell when that uncontrolled chaos could erupt.

Seth had stuck close to Ryan for most of the night, only getting separated a few times. He had gotten stuck talking to a bunch of his grandfather's business associates after the speech. When he finally spotted Ryan by the buffet talking to one of the younger people at the party, Seth couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. He watched as the other guy passed something small, like a business card, to Ryan.

He waited until the man had walked away before he approached Ryan. "Where've you been, man?"

Ryan shrugged. "Around."

Seth watched as Ryan pocketed the card. "Please tell me you didn't just try and solicit one of my grandfather's business associates."

"Relax."

The air felt warmer than normal. Seth attempted to loosen his tie, but a hard body collided with him causing him to become unbalanced.

"Queer!"

Seth ignored the snickers and giggles. He was used to it by now.

"No, hey, my bad for standing here!" Seth mocked under his breath when Luke was out of earshot. The last thing he needed was to get beat up in his own home.

"Who's that?"

"That's Luke Ward. He's a real jerk," Seth said, distracted. He didn't like the way Ryan was looking at Luke. There were a couple of kids from Harbor whose mothers and fathers had business ties with his grandfather in attendance. That made Seth very nervous.

"Wait, Ward?" Ryan said, still looking Luke up and down.

"Yeah, why?"

"Nothing," he said, turning his attention back on Seth. "I know his dad, that's all."

"Wait, how do you know his dad?"

Ryan gave Seth a pointed look. "Oh! You 'know' his dad. Shit, man, that's...I have no words for that."

"He's actually a pretty nice guy."

Seth scoffed. "If you don't take the whole paying you for sex thing into account."

"Let's not forget you've paid me too."

"Point taken." Seth rocked back on his heels. "But still, if people overheard you... Ryan, you don't understand how things work around here."

"Do you seriously think you're the only person from Newport Beach that's driven down to Chino?" There was a sharp edge to his voice.

"What're you saying?"

"Look at them, man!"

Seth looked. He had always thought he had this place figured out. Maybe there were a few things he didn't know.

"I've seen their type a thousand times before. They know who..._what_ I am. Hell, I bet half of them would slam me up against one of those fountains over there if they thought they could get away with it. They don't care, Seth. I'm just here for them to use. And if I can make some extra money... why not, right?"

"Except that it isn't right."

"You sure as hell didn't mind when I was going down on you in the front seat of your mother's Range Rover."

Seth could hear the anger and hurt in his words. For the first time Seth realized how deep Ryan's scar were. "That-I..."

"Catch ya later man, I have somewhere to be."

Seth was too stunned to move. When he finally did look up, Ryan had been swallowed up by the crowd.

* * *

Seth could hear voices coming from his father's office. His hand hesitated over the doorknob. The last thing he wanted to do was walk in. Sucking up his nerves, Seth pushed open the door and watched an older man scrambling for his pants behind his father's desk.

Seth stepped back outside. He could still hear voices inside but he blocked out the words. He didn't look at the man when he walked past. He couldn't. He didn't want to remember his face.

When Seth walked back into the office Ryan was sitting behind the desk, his feet up and his hands behind his head.

"Dude, what the hell do you think you're doing?!"

Ryan smirked. "I just cleared two hundred bucks. Good party."

Seth could see a wad of cash stacked on the desk next to Ryan's feet. "This is my dad's office!"

"And?" Ryan didn't look up. Grabbing the pile of money, he began to count it. Satisfied it was all there, he stood and stuffed it into his pocket.

"And what the hell are you doing?! The whole point of me bringing you here is so you don't have to do this anymore!"

This time Ryan did look up. He took four angry steps toward Seth so they were close enough to touch. His voice was low and dark. "No," he said, jabbing a finger into Seth's chest. "The whole point of you bringing me here is so I can do these things with _you! _And only _you!_"

Ryan made a move to get past Seth, but Seth reached out and grabbed his arm. "Ryan."

Ryan looked down at his arm, pulling out of Seth's grasp easily. Tugging on Seth's lapels, he began to walk them backward. Seth looked behind him. The wall hit his back with an astonishing force. The air went out of his lungs.

"Aren't I right?" Ryan asked, holding Seth against the wall. Pushing his forearm into Seth's chest, he forced Seth's belt open and wrestled with the zipper on his pants.

Seth tried to move but Ryan was too strong. "Ryan." Seth attempted to push him away. "Don't."

"Why not? That's what you want, isn't it?! That's all anybody wants from me." His hand was inside Seth's pants and down his boxers before Seth could blink.

Even if he couldn't stop himself from getting aroused, it didn't mean that he wanted it. It didn't mean that any of it was okay. "Stop it."

Seth's words were uneffective. Ryan had become someone he didn't know, someone he couldn't recognize, someone who couldn't hear him. Something had taken over Ryan. It was like something had snapped inside him and exploded onto the first person he saw. Unfortunately for Seth, he was that person.

"Ryan, stop," Seth said, hoping to gain in some sense of civility.

It didn't have any effect.

A Rough hand was working Seth's cock at an unbearable pace. It burned and chafed. Seth wanted to break down and cry. Not from the pain, _that_ he could withstand, but from what he saw in Ryan's eyes. This raw need to be something to someone. To mean something.

"_Stop it!_" Seth pushed himself further against the wall to try to distance himself. He managed to get Ryan unbalanced. Using all his strength, Seth finally managed to push Ryan away.

Ryan stumbled back. He laughed, a low, dark rumble from the centre of his chest. "You don't get it, Seth! You can't save me!"

Seth rubbed his chest. He was sure he was going to have a bruise, but he was positive the ache he felt in his heart was not connected. His hands were shaking too badly to work the zipper of his pants back up and his belt was a lost cause. "I don't want to save you," he mumbled.

Ryan looked him straight in the eye. "Of course you do."

With that, Ryan walked out the door, leaving Seth behind. Seth slumped down to the floor, wrapped his arms around his legs and let his head fall to his knees.


	16. 15

Again, my thanks goes out to elzed for being my sounding board and for beta'ing portions of this chapter. Thank you! All mistakes are mine. ;)

To everyone that has replied, thank you so much. :)

As always certain lines belong to Fox and Josh Schwartz.

This is rated R.

* * *

Ryan left the room and ran. Ran right to the pool house and into the bathroom where he stripped his clothes and ducked under scalding hot water. 

He didn't think about what he'd done. Not yet. He couldn't. It was still too fresh and raw.

The water was fierce with his skin and his eyes burned, but he didn't change the temperature. This was what he deserved. This pain. After what he'd done... No! He wasn't going to think about it.

The air felt cool around him when he got out of the shower. It prickled his skin and made goose bumps appear.

Picking up his discarded clothes-the confining suit and tie-he hung it behind the door. He didn't want to look at it. He didn't like who he'd become while wearing it. The entire exchange with Seth had been like a disconnected dream. He thought about his hands, rough and cruel like he'd been taught, and the look on Seth's face that wasn't nearly as cold and sinister as he'd expected. Seth wasn't the one he wanted to fight. Still, he could see what he was doing but didn't know how to stop.

His burdens had become something that he always carried with him. They were attached to him like an arm or a leg. Shaking them loose wasn't an option without injuring himself or others in the process.

He was going to block it out.

Ryan couldn't settle when he tried to sleep later that night. Why couldn't he make it stop? Why couldn't he exorcise all the demons inside of himself? Images of Seth's scared eyes had haunted him every time he layed down. Frustrated with himself, he'd gotten out of bed, packed his bag and gone outside to think. He hid the duffel bag behind the garbage bins while he paced.

The night was foggy, the air wet and heavy. Ryan looked at all the perfect houses dusted in dew. Everything inside of him was telling him to just leave and not look back.

There was a tightness in his chest that he just couldn't shake. Stretching his knotted muscles, Ryan allowed his mind to go blank. It was harder than he imagined. Images of Seth had followed him outside, too. They seemed to cling to him like the mist in the air.

Seth believed Ryan was worth something and he'd hurt him. If there was one thing Ryan never wanted Seth to see it was his past, his ghosts. He'd not only shown them to him, he'd unleashed it on him, hurting him. There was too much ugliness for someone like Seth to handle. He was no better than his abusers had been. Ryan could only think of the loneliness now, the years of abuse that had taken him to this point. The ache was so bad, a pain so unbearable behind his breastbone, he could hardly breath.

Smoking his fifth cigarette, he heard footsteps behind him.

"Ryan? I thought I heard someone out here."

Ryan didn't even try to hide the cigarette.

Sandy ran a hand through his dark hair, smiling uneasily. "Uh, there's no smoking in this house."

Ryan took a deep drag, let it fill his lungs and then released it. "We're not in the house."

Sandy looked at him squarely. Without further prompting Ryan flicked the butt away. There was no point in arguing, he was done with it anyway. Sandy stepped out to crush the smoldering tip as it rolled down the driveway.

"So, what're you doing out here?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"Oh. I get like that sometimes. Listen, Ryan, I wanted to talk to you about some things."

"Like what?"

He watched Sandy's eyes as they found his duffel bag. "Are you going somewhere?"

Ryan shrugged. "Maybe."

Sandy appeared to be thinking some things over. He was tentative with his next words. "So you're having some trouble at home, huh?"

"Something like that." Ryan looked at the ground. The last thing he wanted to see was the pity in Sandy's eyes.

There was a long silence. "It was good that Seth brought you here."

"Was it?" Ryan scoffed.

"Well, I for one, am glad that Seth's made a friend. He can be a little overwhelming at first. But he's an interesting kid if you get to know him."

"I guess."

"You know, Ryan, I haven't always lived here. I know what it's like. We're cut from the same deck."

Ryan's head snapped up. He zeroed in on Sandy, looking him straight in the eye. "Don't pretend to know anything about me."

In a move that reminded Ryan of Seth, Sandy raised his hands up in defence. "Fine, then. Why don't you tell me what you're all about? What makes Ryan Atwood tick?"

"I dunno."

"There must be something. Look, Ryan, I'm not here to judge you; I'm here to help." He was trying to catch Ryan's eye, but Ryan wouldn't give him the satisfaction. He'd heard this speech all before. He knew the drill. People always pretended to care until they were close enough to take advantage.

"Yeah? How're you going to help me?"

"For starters, why don't you come into the house and I'll fix you something to eat. They never seem to serve anything edible at these functions. We can talk some more. Figure some things out together."

"Talk?" Ryan asked, sceptical.

"Or not. It's up to you." Sandy smiled. "I make a mean bagel. What'dya say?"

Ryan hadn't realized until Sandy mentioned food that he was starving. He hadn't eaten anything at the party. In fact, he hadn't eaten since breakfast. It was probably a bad idea to run away on an empty stomach anyway. "I'll be in in a minute, I just have to grab my stuff," he said, trying not to sound so enthused.

"Okay."

Ryan listened to Sandy's retreating footsteps until he couldn't hear them anymore and then pulled out the pack of cigarettes from his jacket. He studied them. The first time he'd had a cigarette he'd stolen it from his mother. That was a long time ago. Truthfully, smoking was just another one of Dawn's addictions that Ryan had hated when he was young living under her roof. Why he started smoking he wasn't sure, but he knew it was time to quit. Walking over to retrieve his bag, Ryan looked at the pack one last time and then dropped it into the trash.

* * *

It was the night after the party that Seth went to him. The sun had just gone down and Ryan hadn't been out of the pool house the entire day. Seth kept checking from his bedroom window that the light was on just to be sure that Ryan hadn't slipped out. 

Ryan had been avoiding him, but he was still in the house-the pool house, at least-and that was all that mattered. He hadn't told anyone what had happened the night of his grandfather's birthday party. He wasn't even sure he really knew what had occurred. It all got jumbled and confused the more he thought about it. So he stopped thinking about it.

Seth knocked on the door before entering. "Ryan?"

Ryan was lying in the centre of the bed, his arm over his eyes. Seth thought he might have been asleep, but as he drew closer, Ryan was startled and sat up at his intrusion.

Seth didn't have a plan for what he was going to say. He was just going to go with whatever came out of his mouth first and roll with it. Walking toward the bed, Seth sat down in one of the wicker chairs adjacent Ryan and blurted out, "I don't think you need to be saved."

"No?"

"No. I think you've been hurt and I don't- I know you didn't mean it." Seth looked down at his shoes. One of the grommets at the side had fallen off and the material was beginning to fray where the hole was. "That thing that happened at the party is going to keep happening unless I can show you in some way that I want us to be friends...that I don't view you as just some guy that-"

"Sucked your cock?" Ryan's smile was glib.

"More colourful language than I would have chosen, but yes."

"Just forget about it."

Seth leaned forward. "No, Ryan. I can't and neither can you. It's always going to be between us," he said, motioning between himself and Ryan. "Unless I do something about it. So, I'm here. Doing something about it. I never meant to hurt you, I just...I wanted to be near you." Seth shook his head, realizing how ridiculous he sounded. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize."

Seth sprang up. He was going to pace now. It allowed him to think better. "We're not in Chino anymore, Ryan, and I can't help it, I am sorry. More sorry than you'll ever know. "

"That not what I meant."

Seth stopped pacing and waited for Ryan to continue.

Ryan's cheeks were pink and his eyes were focussed on his feet. "I should be the one... Just, don't apologize anymore."

Seth dropped himself onto the bed, twisting his body so he was able to touch Ryan. His hand landed, tentatively, on his knee, slid downward toward Ryan's thigh. "I-I want to make it up to you. I'm not sure this is the best way, but it's all I could come up with." Seth reached out and grabbed a hold of Ryan's belt buckle. He slipped it out of the hook and pulled it undone.

Ryan pushed his hand away, moved away. "What're you doing?"****

"I'm...you know."

"You think this'll make us even?" Ryan asked pointing to his crotch. "That's fucked up!"

"No! I know I screwed up -we both sort of screwed up," Seth said, scratching behind his ear. "It's just- This way, you'll have to put your trust in me and I'll have to trust you. That's what this is about, right? I still trust you, Ryan."

"I don't trust anyone." Ryan's eyes were cold, but Seth saw through him.

"I think you're lying. I think you do trust me. You mean something to me, Ryan, and I don't want to hurt you. Somewhere deep inside I think you know that. I think, maybe, I might even mean something to you."

"I wasn't trying to hurt you, either. I didn't-" Ryan stopped as if realizing he'd given too much away.

"You don't have to explain. Just let me do this. I want to." Ryan looked sceptical. "I want to," he repeated, more for his benefit than for Ryan's. Pushing Ryan down so he was on his back, Seth moved closer. He took a big breath.

Seth eyed the front of Ryan's jeans. They were old and faded, hugging Ryan in all the right places. Seth once again reached for Ryan's belt, this time there was no resistence. The button and zipper gave easily.

"Wait." Ryan lifted his hips and stuck his hand in his pocket.

Seth hesitated.

Producing a condom, Ryan slipped it into Seth's hand. "Use this."

Seth held the condom in his palm. Safety first. Ryan must have been trained to have condoms ready for use. Seth didn't like to dwell on that, on what it meant in a larger sense. Closing his hand around it, he felt his pulse speed up.

His eyes again shifted to Ryan's jeans. He could see hints of Ryan's boxers and what was in them. There was no point of staring at it the whole night. Swallowing hard, Seth gathered his courage and began to tug Ryan's jeans off.

Now came the tricky part. What did he do first? It wasn't like he didn't know how a penis operated and it wasn't like he'd never jerked off before-'cause, really, he did that everyday just about-but it was different trying to get someone else off.

"Do you, uh, wanna take your shirt off?"

Ryan grabbed the ends of his shirt and pulled it up over his head, slinging it onto the floor. Seth regarded Ryan's bare chest. He noted each scar, each bruise, each scratch. The first initial touch wasn't well received. Ryan flinched out of habit or fear -Seth wasn't sure which. Taking his time, Seth got Ryan to calm down the more he touched him. Lightly, reverently, he marked the lines of faded scars and new bruises. Ryan's skin was warm under his fingertips. Seth's thumb strummed Ryan's nipple and after checking to make sure it was okay, he did it again and again until Ryan's breathing began to change.

Seth knew that going to Chino had been a big risk. Anything could have happened. He could have been arrested, beaten up or worse, but none of those things had happened. He'd met Ryan and took another risk in bringing him home. Everything had turned out good for the most part, so Seth wasn't as afraid anymore. Taking another risk, Seth licked his lips, leaned forward and kissed Ryan's chest. His eyes moved to Ryan's face, but Ryan's eyes were closed and his hands were clenched at his sides.

Seth kissed his way down Ryan's abdomen. His eyes fell on the deep scar on Ryan's side -the one caused by hatred, forever wrought with bad memories. Seth let his tongue sink into the groove, hoping to erase the pain. Ryan gasped and turned his head to the side.

Seth could feel his own erection pressing against his jeans but he refused to acknowledge it. This wasn't about him. This wasn't even really about sex. Trust, he told himself. This was about trust.

Seth's hand slipped inside Ryan's boxers. Ryan's shaft was thick and pulsing. Moving his hand experimentally, Seth wasn't prepared for the feeling of inadequacy that came over him.

He was bad at it. Really, really bad. It was one thing to think about it, to fantasize, but it was a whole different thing to be doing it.

Was he going too fast? Too slow?

Was there too much pressure? Not enough?

It was almost too much responsibility. He wanted to make this good for Ryan, to erase all the other bad memories.

Having dropped the condom sometime during his exploration of Ryan's body, Seth blindly searched for it while he continued to rub his thumb against the head of Ryan's cock.

Finally finding it, Seth tore open the package and pulled out the condom. His first two attempts to put it on Ryan failed. It was going from bad to worse. "Who knew a condom was so complicated?" he said, trying to make light of the situation.

Ryan took the condom from Seth's hands and placed it over his own erection. He wouldn't look at Seth. Seth didn't know what that meant. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Seth took in a series of short breaths before he lowered his mouth to Ryan's erection. He swirled his tongue around the head of Ryan's cock a few times before he had to pull back. A condom wasn't exactly blow job friendly. It tasted like hospital gloves. Not that Seth had tasted hospital gloves...but it was how he imagined they would taste.

"Dude, can I just, like, take this thing off. I seriously think I might be allergic to latex."

Ryan's eyes opened. "It's not safe."

"Well, uh, you always use a condom, right?"

Ryan nodded.

"So then, it's perfectly safe. I'll take my chances."

"You shouldn't. I've..." Ryan looked away. His cheeks, flushed from arousal, got a deeper shade of pink.

"Dude, what?"

"I get tested every couple of months, but, when I was young... There were times when I wasn't always safe. Protected. Whatever."

"I trust you."

"Maybe we shouldn't do this," Ryan said. He attempted to get up, but Seth gently pushed him back down.

"If it's that important to you... Condom stays, okay?"

Ryan nodded and settled back down.

Ryan did not like giving up control. And that was exactly what he was doing, allowing Seth to take control. It was a complete role reversal.

He wanted them to be safe. They had to be safe. He didn't want to hurt Seth, even unintentionally. Ryan froze. He didn't want to hurt Seth. He didn't want to hurt him because he cared what happened to him. He...cared about Seth.

Seth had gone back to do whatever it was that he was doing. What Seth lacked in experience, he made up for in enthusiasm. Licking, sucking. Rubbing. Seth did it all.

Ryan let the tension drain from his body. He began to settle down and relax, enjoy what was happening when the worst image popped into his brain...

_Her fingers were cool, clammy, against the buckle of his belt._

Ryan pushed the image away only to invite more in.

___...his face pressed into the warm dirt so he wouldn't be found...the smell of sour whiskey and turpentine locked in the air...the smack of boots on the gravel inches from where he lay, taunting him..._

Ryan closed his eyes tight. Everything was spinning.

___... milk-white fingers...a laugh he once found soft and warm, cackling in his eardrums... _

"Ryan?"

Seth's voice. Seth. He was here with Seth. It was Seth doing these things. Seth touching him.

"Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?"

Ryan shook his head. He concentrated on Seth's tongue circling the head of his cock through a thin layer of latex, he concentrated on Seth's hand around his shaft and his other hand gentle on his abdomen. Soon the memories floated away and all he could feel was pleasure where he hadn't had any before.

Sex had become just a job to Ryan. He'd forgotten how good it could be. He felt sensations flooding through him that he'd always been afraid to feel. This wasn't bad. This wasn't dirty. This wasn't like before. This was not like he always thought about sex in his jaded way.

Ryan could feel the pressure building in his body. It felt like Seth was tearing down all the walls he'd built around himself, making all his inhibitions crumble. He began to move his hips in rhythm with Seth's mouth, participating instead of letting it happen to him.

He tried to hold back, to stop the inevitable, but Seth was relentless in his efforts. Ryan jolted up, clenching his jaw as he came.

"Fuck!" Ryan couldn't catch his breath. It had simultaneously been the worst and best blow job Ryan had ever had.

Seth was watching him with a dizzy smile on his face.

"I can't believe that just happened. That was, like...whoa."

Ryan blinked. Post-orgasm numbness had settled in. Anything could go wrong and it wouldn't matter because he was so relaxed.

Seth, on the other hand, was a ball of nerves, pleased with himself.

When he regained some energy, Ryan went to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. He craned his head out the door. Seth was still looking at him. It would have been unsettling if Seth didn't look so damn eager.

"So, that was...interesting," Ryan said, having regained his composure.

Seth stood and met him on the small landing. "It was okay, though, right? I mean, I did okay?"

Ryan nodded, feeling his cheeks heat. "You were okay."

"Good. Great. Listen, I'm going to go. It's all ready late and you're probably tired, right? Tomorrow we can talk some more, figure some more things out."

Ryan walked Seth to the door. Everything he had done since Seth walked in felt foreign.

Seth was halfway out the door when he turned around and surprised Ryan with a hug. Ryan's first instinct was to push him away, but Seth must have been anticipating it with the way he held on so tight. Ryan stopped fighting it.

* * *

The backyard had finally been restored back to normal. The platform had been disassembled, the streamers and balloons taken down and the party dishes washed. There were mounds of trash bags that needed to go outside. Kirsten was so exhausted from months of planning that she was taking it easy, taking her time to get all the garbage to the curb. 

Hefting two large bags down the driveway, she set them down and opened the lid of the trash bins. She looked inside briefly and then looked again when something caught her eye. Reaching down, she picked up the pack of cigarettes. Kirsten looked back at the house. Pacing the driveway, she contemplated what to do. She was positive the cigarettes belonged to Ryan, but if she accused him...? He'd thrown them away. At least that was a start. Still, she slipped them into her pocket just in case temptation proved to be too much for him.

With some effort, Kirsten deposited the trash into the bins and walked up the driveway. Checking for damage to her flowers, she edged toward the pool house. The gardenias were doing horrible. She had to remember to call the gardener in the morning,

Kirsten stopped. Listened. There were voices coming from the pool house.

The shades were drawn. Moving closer, Kirsten could see shadows in the room. It could only be Seth and Ryan. But what were they...? Oh, God.

Kirsten's mouth dropped. There had to be an explanation. It couldn't. They couldn't be...

Stumbling back, Kirsten turned and walked back toward the house. She went inside and didn't stop moving until she was safely inside the sanctity of her own bedroom.

Kirsten was thisclose to confessing what she'd seen. Her nerves were shot. She masked it with anger. "I don't want that kid in my house!"

Sandy closed the file he'd been looking at and folded it over his lap. "What? Why?"

"He's trouble. Look what I found!" Kirsten held up the package of cigarettes, tossing them onto the bottom of the bed.

Sandy reached forward and picked them up. He examined them a minute and then set them down on the night stand. "I've talked to him about it all ready."

"He's a bad influence!" Kirsten rummaged through her drawers looking for her nightgown, looking for anything to keep her hands busy so Sandy couldn't see how bad she was shaking.

Sandy sighed. "He's just a screwed up kid. He needs some guidance."

Kirsten whirled around. "Oh, and I suppose you want to give it to him?!"

"Couldn't hurt," Sandy said, shrugging. "What's really going on here?"

Kirsten concentrated on taking off her clothes and then putting on her nightgown. "I don't like the way Seth's been acting lately."

Sandy chuckled in that sarcastic way that told her he didn't buy a word she was trying to sell him. "What, you mean happy? You've said it yourself: he's smiling more, he's laughing. He can't be your baby forever, honey. You have to let go sometime. We both knew this was coming."

Kirsten was taken aback. "I know. That's not..." She stopped, shook her head. "Remember when Seth was a baby and he got croup? No matter what we did, he just wouldn't sleep. He just kept coughing." Kirsten peeled back the covers and got into bed under the cool sheets. She smiled fondly, remembering. "You ran the shower and the whole bathroom filled with steam. We stayed in there for almost an hour. Our clothes got drenched, it was hot and sweaty, but the coughing stopped and he finally fell asleep in my arms, his little hands clutching my neck... I remember thinking that I just wanted to hold him like that forever. It was so easy then."

Sandy reached over and took her hand, kissed the back of it and let their joined hands drop between them. "It was never easy... It's just more complicated now. Teenagers!"

"Yeah." She rested her head on Sandy's shoulder and closed her eyes.

Sandy picked up the folder. He skimmed through it once again. "I think we're in over our heads, though. I mean, look at this: suspected physical abuse; suspected sexual abuse; detachment disorder; anger issues; eight different foster homes in one year."

Kirsten opened her eyes, lifted her head and looked at Sandy. "Eight in one year?"

"It's very vague, but it seems that his mother left them alone and didn't come back for an undetermined amount of time. Ryan and his brother were separated and put into foster care."

"That's horrible!"

"There are worse things in here. I can't even... I can't." Sandy visibly shuddered. Kirsten didn't want to know anymore. She didn't want to know what he'd all ready told her after what she'd witnessed. How was she going to send Ryan back to a life so horrible? It had to be done, though. Seth was too important to her.

"Sandy."

Sandy shook his head and Kirsten could see his mind at work trying to figure out the cruelty that some humans possessed. "I've seen cases of abuse but nothing like this."

Letting go of his hand, Kirsten pulled the blankets up around herself and settled down into the bed. "I can't deal with this, Sandy. I don't want him around Seth. Get him out of this house."

"The father is listed as deceased. He has a brother in jail. His mother's last known address is over three years old! Where is he going to go?"

"I don't know. We have to do what's best for this family, what's best for Seth. I just... please, Sandy."

Kirsten reached over and turned off the lamp on her night table. In the darkness she wouldn't be able to see Sandy's disapproval, disappointment.

She listened as he set down the folder and slumped down into his side of the bed.

Two hours later she was still awake, looking at the blank wall through the darkness. She had convinced herself that sending Ryan away was the right thing to do, but if that was true why did it feel like there was a giant weight on her shoulders and her chest was caving in?

She had to talk to Ryan.


	17. 16

Thank you for the reviews. :)

This is rated R.

* * *

When Sandy's breathing was even and consistent, Kirsten slipped out of bed, walked over to Sandy's night stand and picked up the pack of cigarettes, grabbing her robe on the way out of their shared bedroom. She slipped down the hall and into Seth's room. As she opened the door she steeled herself to the fact that he might not be there, that he might still be in the pool house with Ryan. Thankfully, he was in his room, asleep. Splayed out on his bed, snoring softly, she could almost fool herself into thinking that he was still a little boy that always needed her. But she knew he was almost a man and not a child anymore. He didn't need her as much as he once had. Soon he wouldn't need her at all. She'd been preparing herself for this since Seth was in kindergarten, but the reality was different. It had always been a girl that she'd pictured taking away her baby, not a troubled boy from Chino. Sandy was right, though. Seth hadn't been this happy in a long time. 

Reaching out, she moved a curl off his forehead. His hair was messy and soft from sleep. She looked around the room, blue and poster-covered with some bands she'd never heard of, comic books in the corner and piled on the desk, skateboard laying on the floor and Captain Oats on the night stand. It was a typical teenager's room home to a not-so-typical teen. That's what she had always loved about her son: that he was never afraid to be himself. And that was a lie, wasn't it? Because he'd been harbouring a giant secret from her. Kirsten stood there motionless for a little while longer until Seth shifted and rolled onto his side. Gathering her wits, Kirsten tore her eyes from her only son and tiptoed out of the room.

There was still a light on in the pool house. This was it. She was going to talk to Ryan, if only to tell him that she knew what he was doing to her son. Because she didn't want to feel sorry for him. She didn't want to believe there was anything redeemable inside him. Because if she let him talk, if she let him explain... He'd won the heart of her son and if she let him talk he might just win hers, too.

Kirsten knocked lightly on the pool house doors. "Ryan?"

"Don't!"

Opening the door, Kirsten saw Ryan lying in bed, tossing and turning in a restless sleep. "Ryan?"

Kirsten knelt down and tapped his shoulder. She was weary of his reaction. The last time she got too close he'd acted strange. She had to be careful with him. He was so different from Seth, older somehow. When she looked at him, she didn't seen a seventeen-year-old boy, she saw someone more experienced, more in tune with the harsh realities of the world. Ryan was rough around the edges where Seth was all refined lines. She didn't want Ryan crossing one of those invisible lines with her son.

* * *

For the first time since he could remember, Ryan fell asleep without the weight of depression pressing against his chest. But something had happened as he slept. Something that always seemed to happen. Everything good became tangled with the past and inseparable from the present. 

Ryan's eyes wouldn't focus. All he could see was blonde hair and white skin. He felt twelve again. He jerked out of bed. "S-Stay there."

"Ryan, it's Kirsten Cohen."

Ryan blinked and then blinked again. Slowly she came into focus. Kirsten's face was illuminated by the yellow glow coming from the bathroom. He could see that she was leery, possibly afraid. Only her fear was of him and not of some stupid, pathetic dream.

"What's going on?" He managed to get out.

Kirsten crossed her arms, stood straight and looked at Ryan. "Sandy and I have talked things over and we think it would be best if you went home."

Ryan had to wonder if he was still asleep, if he was still inside his nightmare. But no, he was awake and this was really happening.

"What about Seth?" The question came out of his mouth before he had time to censor it.

Kirsten continued to stare at him. Ryan dropped his eyes.

"I'll tell Seth in the morning after you've gone."

"Did I do something?"

"I found these. Are they yours?" Kirsten held up the pack of cigarettes to show him.

He shrugged. "They were; I threw them out. I quit." Ryan couldn't make his eyes meets hers.

Kirsten shifted. He heard more than saw the change in her stance. "I think that Seth- Seth's an impressionable kid, Ryan, and I don't want... "

"You think I'm a bad influence."

"He's never had a friend like you before and I think he might be mistaking friendship for something else. I don't want Seth to-

Ryan forced his eyes on her. "Get mixed up with a kid like me?"

She dropped her arms, only to fold them around herself again. "He has a bright future, Ryan. I'm aware that you've had to overcome a lot, but I'm just not sure I feel safe with you being around Seth given your history."

Ryan scoffed. "My history?"

"Sandy has a friend down at Child Services."

"What does that mean?"

"I know about the foster homes, the abuse, the-"

She sounded embarrassed, Ryan thought, but he didn't really care if she was or not because it didn't change the fact that she now knew everything about him. She knew of everything that he'd been through. She and Sandy had read it on a piece of paper and maybe they even tried to block out the images that the words created in their heads, but it was him that had lived it. He was the one with the scars on his body and mind, always reminding him, never letting him forget what a shitty life he had. It angered him. "You checked my file?!"

"Seth means everything to me, Ryan, and I won't let you hurt him."

"You think that I'd...?"

"I'm not saying you would, but I don't know you well enough to know that you wouldn't. It's too big a risk." Kirsten's face was torn between doing what she thought was right and realizing what she was doing was wrong. "Ryan, I'm sure you're a nice kid, but I have to protect my family."

There was nothing left to say, she'd made up her mind. Ryan resigned himself to that fact that no matter what he said he wasn't going to change Kirsten's mind. She wanted him out of her house, out of her son's life, and wasn't going to take no for an answer... Even if she wasn't sure she was doing the right thing. Because the right thing didn't matter when she was trying to protect her son. "Yeah, I get it."

Ryan had wanted to run from this place since the moment he arrived. He'd packed his bags several times and never had he made it past the driveway. And now, with the decision being made for him, he realized he didn't want to go. Not now. Not when everything was just starting to make sense.

There was no longer a choice. Tomorrow morning he was going back to Chino. In a couple of months Newport would just be a really hazy dream, a memory he wouldn't be sure was real.

* * *

Kirsten hadn't been able to fall asleep when she got back to her room. She stared at the ceiling and pretended to be asleep when Sandy woke and dressed. The conversation with Ryan had left her drained and feeling like she was the villain in a Disney movie. The bad guys in those never got to tell their side of the story. No matter what she said she knew Seth was going to see her as the one-dimensional bad guy. 

Not allowing herself to think about it, she showered, dressed and threw herself into some work she'd brought home from the office.

Kirsten was skimming over documents her father had faxed over when Seth came barrelling into the room.

"Where's Ryan? I just went to the pool house and he wasn't there."

Kirsten cleared her throat. As much as she thought she'd prepared herself for this moment, seeing Seth looking so lost weighed on her heart. "Your father took him home." She kept her voice calm and even.

"What? He what?! He doesn't even have a home! What's wrong with you people?"

"Seth, calm down! Now."

Seth was shaking his head, his eyes wide and searching. "I hope you're happy. You've just sentenced him to a life of poverty and pros- destitution, but I suppose that doesn't matter to you."

Kirsten rubbed her forehead. She could feel a migraine coming on. "I found cigarettes in the trash. When I went to confront him he didn't deny they were his."

Seth gesticulated wildly. "Exactly, they were in the trash! You didn't have to send him away! You hated him the minute you saw him, admit it."

Kirsten had heard enough. She couldn't handle the accusations any longer. "Stop it! Stop it now!" Setting down her papers, she stood. "I saw the two of you."

"Saw the two of us, what?"

"Seth."

"Look, if you're going to be cryptic about this th-"

"I was putting out the garbage and I thought I heard voices in the pool house. When I looked through the window..." She didn't continue and Seth didn't need her to. He knew what she saw.

"Oh," he said. She wasn't sure whether his cheeks were staining red from embarrassment or anger. She suspected it was a bit of both. "That's why you made him leave?"

"That's all you have to say?!"

"What do you want from me? I've always been different, okay? I've always known. Hell, everyone at Harbor knows: Luke, the water polo team, Summer... Why do you think they pick on me? Why do you think they pee in my shoes? And why don't I do anything about it? Why don't I stand up for myself?" Seth stopped even though she was sure the question was meant to be rhetorical. It was then that she realized he was taking a moment to compose himself, and her chest began to ache. Finally, he continued,"because I'm everything they say I am... And now my own mother can't look me in the eye. I never asked to be this way."

Kirsten could feel her heart breaking into a million pieces for the pain Seth had gone through -was going through.

Seth rubbed his eyes, wiping away tears he would never admit to having shed. Her own eyes were moist. What kind of mother was she?

Kirsten walked across the room and pulled Seth into a hug. She held on tight when he tried to resist. "Seth."

Pulling back, she held his face in her hands and looked him straight in the eye.

"I'm no different, mom." His voice was quiet and pained.

"I know," she whispered. "Why couldn't you just tell us? Why did it have to be a secret?"

"Simple answer? I was scared."

"Don't you know that I love you more than anything in this whole world?"

Seth wiped his eyes and runny nose with the back of his hand and smiled. "Even more than Margaritas?"

"Seth!" She laughed. She couldn't help it. At times like these it made her grateful that he'd inherited his father's sense of humour. They both knew how to ruin a moment -in a good way. "I'm trying to have a moment here."

"Sorry, mom, it was just too easy."

Kirsten nodded. "This doesn't change anything. I still love you. You know that, right? No matter what."

"I love you too, mom." Seth patted her on the shoulder, tilting his head to the side. "Now can we stop the mushy stuff?"

Kirsten shook her head and gave him a gentle nudge. "Get out of here."

Seth turned to go, but pivoted back around. "Wait, what about Ryan?"

Now that the secret was out, now that there wasn't this giant _thing_ between them, Kirsten felt relieved, but also ashamed. "I don't know, Seth. Let me just digest this first."

Seth nodded and exited the room. Kirsten watched him leave, his head hung and shoulders slumped. Her mind still hadn't been eased where Ryan was concerned. He still had the potential to be dangerous, but she hadn't taken the time to find out whether he actually was or not. Maybe she had to find out for herself if Ryan could be trusted. She feared the happiness of her son might just depend on it.

* * *

Sandy woke up early to take Ryan back to Chino. There was something Kirsten wasn't telling him. You didn't just sleep next to someone for seventeen years and not know when something is bothering them. 

With little to go on, he was forced to go to the last known address to seek out Dawn Atwood. No one answered Sandy's incessant knocking. When he turned around he could see Ryan watching him from the car.

Sandy sighed.

Crossing the lawn, he knocked on the door at next house over. A petite woman, with a toddler in her arms, opened the door to him.

Sandy smiled. "Hi, sorry to bother you, but do you remember a woman named Dawn, Dawn Atwood?"

The woman shook her head. "She hasn't lived there in years."

"Do you remember anything about her? Did she have any family in the area?"

"She had a couple of kids. Last I heard the oldest one was in jail."

"So you wouldn't know where I could find her?"

"Not a clue."

Sandy smiled again, masking his disappointment. "Thanks anyway."

"No problem," she said and closed the door. Sandy heard the lock turn as he walked down the sidewalk.

They weren't going to find Dawn unless Ryan started talking. And Ryan wasn't making any effort to talk. He had barely said two words and answered most of Sandy's questions with 'yes' and 'no.' It was starting to feel like a lost cause.

Sandy got back into the car, turned the ignition and headed down the street. At the stoplight, he checked the rearview mirror and then turned to Ryan. "Did that woman look familiar?"

"No."

Sandy tapped his fingers on the steering wheel waiting for the light to change. "Son, you're-"

"I'm not your son!"

"Ryan, come on. Work with me here!"

Ryan folded his arms across his chest and slipped further down into the seat. "Just drop me off on the corner."

Sandy sighed in frustration. He was going around in circles. Literally. "You don't have any clue where your mother could be? No clue at all?"

Ryan shook his head. The sad part was Sandy knew it wasn't a lie. "I've been on my own for a while. I've survived. I'll be okay."

Sandy knew all of that was true. He'd read the file. He knew what a tough kid Ryan was. Even so, Sandy didn't see how Ryan could survive, really survive, prosper, on his own. Not without guidance or a soft place to fall. "Ryan, I can't in good faith just leave you here. You have no education, no skills. How will you get a job?"

Ryan looked out the window. "I'll do what I did before."

"Which was?"

Ryan wouldn't look at Sandy. "I... did what they do," he said, pointing to a group of women working the street corner.

For a minute Sandy's lungs were so tight he couldn't breath. The air rushed too fast back into them, expanding his chest and making him cough.

"Ryan."

"When I have enough saved up I'll go to Atlanta."

Ryan sounded convinced that this was a good plan. Sandy thought it was horrible idea. Even if he could raise the capital, what he had to do to get the money...it just didn't seem feasible and it sounded downright dangerous.

It was a long time before Sandy spoke. What Ryan had just told him had to be dealt with delicately. The last thing he wanted to do was make Ryan more ashamed than he all ready was. "What's in Atlanta?"

"A friend."

"Don't you have any friends here?"

Ryan shrugged. "Seth." He quickly averted his eyes.

* * *

Ryan could feel Sandy's eyes on him. 

It all seemed to click. Ryan knew he'd given away Seth's secret. For not the first time in his life, Ryan wished he could be someone else

"I can't leave you here," Sandy finally said. "We'll find your mother, but in the meantime you'll stay at the house."

"What if I don't want to?" Ryan could deal with the streets, hunger, even Johns that beat him, but what he couldn't deal with was his mother. Not anymore. She'd been dead to his heart for a long time.

Sandy smiled gently. "Don't worry, I'll explain everything to Kirsten."

"No," Ryan said, clarifying. "I mean, what if I don't want to find her. My mother, I mean."

He sighed. "It doesn't look like we have any other choice."

They were both quiet the rest of the drive back. Ryan couldn't wait to get out of the car. He felt cramped, confined. He wanted to stretch his legs and be able to breath without being watched. He wanted to be back in the pool house where everything felt safe and clean, though, he wasn't looking forward to hearing what Kirsten had to say when he showed up back at the house. Seeing Seth again would be worth that minor inconvenience.

* * *

Back at the house, Ryan went straight to the pool house while Sandy went into the house and climbed the stairs to Seth's room. He didn't bother knocking, just walked right in. 

"We're not knocking anymore?" Seth said, swivelling around on his computer chair.

Seth had some explaining to do and he wasn't about to worry about invading his son's privacy now. There didn't seem to be a way to ease into the topic of Ryan. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Seth's raised his eyebrows. "Tell you what?"

"About Ryan."

"What about him? Oh, thanks for banishing to that hell-hole, by the way," Seth said, pressing a finger to his lips. "Yeah, I'm sure he appreciates it. I can't wait to get the thank-you card."

Sandy remained stern. "Now's not the time for games, son. Ryan told me everything."

"Told you what, exactly?"

Sandy crossed his arms. He meant business. "He showed me where the two of you met. What do you have to say?"

Seth was shaking his head. A nervous laugh came from his throat. "What am I supposed to say?"

"You abused him, Seth! If only you'd come to us. We could have helped."

"Helped pick out a hooker?"

"Cut the sarcasm, there's no need for that."

"I can't help it. This is how I deal with confrontation. It's a reflex procured after years of being tormented by huge water polo players."

Sandy grabbed Seth by the upper arm, pulling him out of the chair. Right now his concern was overtaking any other feelings he had. "Come on."

Seth tried to pull loose. "What're you doing?"

"Taking you down to Dr. Goldstein's office and getting you tested!"

Seth's lips pinched together. "We used condoms. And it wasn't like..." Seth covered his face with his hand, clearly mortified. "God, I can't believe I'm talking about this with you of all people."

Sandy dropped Seth's arm and took a step back. "Okay, okay. It's so good that you did. If you're going to... Okay. And you're sure this is- You're sure?"

There was a long silence that lasted far too long.

"I was confused. I-I needed to find out if it was just a phase or, you know, whatever."

"And now...?" Sandy realized he was holding his breath waiting for an answer.

"I'm not confused anymore." Seth hung his head. "So I suppose you're ashamed of me now?"

"Don't be stupid. Your mother and I love you no matter what."

"So I've heard."

"Come here," Sandy said, pulling on Seth's shoulders. He lured him into a hug, holding on with a fierce grip.

"Oh, more hugging. Since when did this family get so touchy-feely?"

"Since always. I've always been a hugger, you know that."

Seth pulled back, putting distance between them and stood awkwardly shifting his feet on the carpet. "What about Ryan? He doesn't have anyone else, dad. We have to go get him. I made a promise."

Sandy could see now that this was more than just a crush, more than friendship, even. Ryan meant something to Seth. "Ryan's here."

"What? Here, as in in the house?"

"He's in the pool house."

"Dad, that's awesome!" Seth's smile alone was enough to pinch Sandy's heart.

"He can stay until we find his mother. Now I just have to clear it with_ your_ mother."

"Can I go see him?"

"Go on."

"Thanks dad. For everything."

Sandy nodded. Seth peeled out of the room. Sandy slumped down onto Seth's bed. He loosened his tie and rolled his shoulders. When he looked up Kirsten was in the room, staring at him.

He smiled wearily. "You heard?"

Kirsten took up the spot beside him and rubbed his back. "Sandy, it's not like we've never talked about this being a possibility."

"I know."

"He's our son. He's no different." Kirsten continued to massage his back and shoulders. He could feel the tension slipping away.

"I know, it's just going to take some time. About Ryan. Honey, I had to bring him back."

Leaning over, she kissed his cheek. "I know."

"He had nowhere to go."

Holding his face, she looked him in the eye. "Sandy, I understand."

He searched her face. "Really? Everything's okay?"

"Mmm-hmm," she said, dropping her head onto his shoulder.

"Have I told you how much I love you?" Sandy moved his arm around her and pulled her closer, smelling the apricot shampoo she always used in her hair.

Kirsten lifted her head slightly and met his eye. "Not today."

"I love you," he said and kissed her.

"Love you, too," she mumbled between kisses.

* * *

I'm really trying to finish this before the new season starts. So, not to be needy or anything, but...encouragement? Please. :) 


	18. 17

* * *

You guys blew me away with your replies! Seriously. Thank you so much! This is, unfortunately (or fortunately?), the last chapter. Elzed is once again owed my gratitude for putting up with my neurotic questioning. Thank you! I owe you.

As always, certain lines belong to Fox and Josh Schwartz.

This is rated R.

* * *

Ryan began to put his things away into the little shelves behind the bed. After he was done, he turned around and looked around. He'd been spared for a little while, but he knew his time here was limited.

Ryan settled onto the bed, waiting for Seth's inevitable arrival. He heard him before he saw him as he awkwardly stumbled into the pool house. His presence was oddly welcoming and familiar.

"So you're back!"

"For now, at least."

"Ah, don't think like that! Negative vibes will do us no good." Seth steepled his hands and raised them against his chin. He rocked back on his feet. "Ryan, I have a premonition that things are going to work out. I'm optimistic. Psychic, maybe. Some might even say clairvoyant, even. I've seen the future, my friend, and it looks bright. "

"Sure," Ryan said.

Seth's enthusiasm was almost contagious. Ryan would have been infected with it had he not been thinking rationally. Seth was a dreamer. Ryan was realistic.

Ryan looked at Seth, wanting and scared all at once. It was like Ryan had once said: Seth couldn't save him. Right now, though, he wished he could.

* * *

It happened when they were playing video games. It was a typical day, nothing was really different. Breakfast, comics and then video games leading all the way into lunch. That had become their routine.

Inseparable. That's what they had become. Seth sometimes got the impression that Ryan didn't want to be alone; that he'd been alone enough in his life. It worked out fine for Seth because he'd spent the first sixteen years of his life alone. He enjoyed the company. Ryan was still quiet and brooding, but occasionally, when he didn't know Seth was watching him, he could be caught smiling.

Seth hoped that the private investigator his father had hired would skip town and never come back so Ryan wouldn't be sent away. He wasn't sure he could go back to the lonely person he had been before he'd met Ryan. In fact, he was positive he couldn't.

Ryan was crunching on ice beside Seth on the couch, trying to manipulate his man on screen to do what he wanted him to. The ninja game was one they both enjoyed. Ryan had quickly picked it up, but still wasn't quite at Seth's skill level. "Dude, you're, like, really bad at this game. Like, seriously? You suck so bad." Seth's jaw dropped when the weight of the words hit him. He turned to Ryan. "Um, no pun intended there. I didn't mean... I meant the game. You're horrible at this game. I didn't mean... 'Cause I wouldn't-"

And then it happened. Ryan leaned over, looking him in the eye. Seth stared back, questioningly. Ryan continued forward, pressing his lips against Seth's.

Seth wasn't sure how to respond. Weird, was what it was. It was an odd thing to wait for something to happen, something you want that you think you're never going to have and then it just does and you have it.

Seth's heart was beating a jillion times a minute -or, at least, it felt like it was. He was halfway convinced it was going to pop out of his chest, shoot across the room, land on the floor and then flop around like a jellyfish until it stopped working all together. Either that or he was going to have a heart attack. Either option was just as likely to occur.

At first Ryan's lips were stiff, and maybe even a little uncertain, but then something changed. Ryan relaxed into the kiss at the same time Seth did.

The kiss was chaste but powerful. It might have been what heaven felt like. Because there was something divine about the kiss. Something bigger than the two of them.

The game controller fell out of Seth's hands as he grappled with Ryan's shirt, trying to pull him closer. Seth spread his hands over Ryan's back, feeling corded muscle and heat through his thin t-shirt. There was an intensity brewing under the surface of Seth's skin that he'd never felt before. He felt heady, drunk.

Seth felt Ryan's tongue prodding his mouth. He opened for him, his eyes closed so tight he could see stars. Ryan's tongue was cool from the ice he'd been sucking on. A shiver went down Seth's spine. On instinct, he responded. Seth was a mess of flailing limbs as he tried to uncross his legs to get closer. His leg shot out knocking over a bowl full of chips. He felt dizzy and great and awkward.

Ryan broke away, resting his forehead against Seth's.

The only sound in the room was the trippy background music, the swoosh of swords generating from the unattended game and their ragged breaths. Seth could hear the battle cry as his player surrendered to a bloody death. The smell of Doritos and Ryan's soap was an odd combination. A decidedly wrong combination.

Seth knew he had to say something, anything, to break the silence. Because it was stretching between them and the stillness of the room was growing uncomfortable. The problem was that his brain was still focussed on the kiss and his tongue couldn't wrap around words to form a sentence. "Whoa! Kissing. Huh, that's...that's- We've never really-I've never really... just whoa."

The corners of Ryan's mouth turned up in a confused smirk. "You're not making much sense." Ryan settled back into the cushions and drank a few mouthfuls of Coke.

Seth nodded vigorously, watching as Ryan's teeth ground a piece of ice into minuscule shards. "Yeah, I do that sometimes." Seth touched his lips. They still tingled. "But, dude, that was..."

Ryan rested his head against the back of the couch. He rolled his shoulders and looked at Seth. "What?"

Seth decided it was best not to drag the topic any further. It was just something that had happened, and Ryan didn't want to talk about it, certainly didn't want to analyse it. The best course of action to take-if Seth wanted it to happen again-was to just shut up.

"Uh, Nothin'. You, uh, you wanna play again?"

Seth picked up the controllers from the floor where they had fallen and handed one to Ryan. Even as he tried to stop it, a smile formed on his face. Ryan had kissed him.

* * *

Things were a little shaky around the house, but going well. When Ryan wasn't brooding he appeared happy. And that made Seth happy. Which, in turn, made Kirsten and Sandy happy.

But underneath all the supposed happiness there was tension. It could be felt in the air when Ryan and Kirsten were in the same room. If they weren't careful they were all going to choke on it.

Kirsten made it no secret that she didn't like the boys being alone together and had, once or twice, sent Rosa to the pool house to collect the laundry just to check up on them.

The nights were longer than normal and Kirsten often found herself getting out of bed and checking to make sure Seth was still in his. He always was. That eased her mind. A little.

It took three days to locate Dawn. Kirsten had spent the time observing Ryan. After Sandy had confided in her, after she'd learned the truth, it was hard not to judge Ryan, not to want to protect Seth. She didn't say anything, just carefully watched and waited. But three days was not enough time to get to know Ryan and, in the pit of her stomach, she was a little relieved to know that Ryan's mother had been found.

The private investigator Sandy had hired followed lead after lead until he tracked her down in a grocery store in Fresno where she'd been a cashier for the past two months.

Sandy went down personally to extend an invitation to the house. He broached the subject of Ryan carefully. The exchange went well and Dawn had agreed to meet at the house. She had said all the right things, expressed the right amount of concern for Ryan. There didn't seem to be a reason to worry.

A special dinner had been ordered. Kirsten always steered clear of the kitchen, especially when they were having company. It was one thing to poison her family, but poisoning strangers was unacceptable.

Everyone was on edge. They waited on baited breath. Sandy held Kirsten's hand as they stared at the clock on the wall. Seth stared at Ryan when he wasn't focussed on the floor.

Dawn was late.

An hour and ten minutes late.

The only person in the room that didn't seem concerned was Ryan. He sat back on the couch like he knew what was going to happen.

When the doorbell rang, everyone got to their feet except for Ryan.

Kirsten didn't know what to expect when she opened the door. Dawn Atwood was a Mary Kay explosion combined with thrift store cheap cleavage.

"Kristen, right?"

"Kirsten."

"Right!"

"Come in," Kirsten said, smiling graciously.

Sandy came up behind Kirsten, placing his hand on the small of her back as he waved Dawn inside. "Dawn, hi, how are you?"

Kirsten detected the scent of alcohol as Dawn walked past.

"It's hotter than hell out! The A/C in my car is busted. I spent the whole drive over with my head practically out the window."

Kirsten could see Seth's eyes bug out. If she knew her son like she thought she did, he had a few choice jokes on the tip of his tongue.

Dawn surveyed the house, her eyes scanning every corner. "Swanky pad," she said and let out a low whistle.

"We like it," Sandy chimed in. "Come. Sit. Oh, this is our son, Seth."

"Hi, nice to meet you." Seth offered his hand and managed to conceal any judgements he was making at the time.

"Mr. Manners, this one."

Again, Kirsten could see her son's brain at work. She shook her head behind Dawn warning him not to go there.

"Ryan." Her voice softened as she said his name. "Have you missed me?"

"Sure, mom," Ryan answered, though, he didn't sound very convincing.

Ryan finally stood and allowed his mother to wrap her arms around him. The whole exchange looked tacky and uncomfortable.

Ryan, Dawn and Seth sat lined up on the couch. Kirsten and Sandy each sat in a chair. The silence stretched.

Sandy cleared his throat. "Maybe we should eat."

"That sounds like a good idea." Kirsten stood, clasping her hands together. "The food's probably cold. Just give me a minute and I'll heat it up in the oven."

Seth snickered. "Mom, the oven? Are you sure you can handle that?"

Sandy joined Seth and chuckled. "Maybe the microwave would be better, honey."

"I can handle the oven!" she protested.

"Ah, there's nothing like righteous indignation over an oven. Might I remind you of the TV dinner escapade of '99, mother?"

Kirsten tilted her head to the side, remembering. The oven had to be replaced after that incident. It was just after that that Seth and Sandy had practically banned her from the kitchen. They'd made a pact and they'd gone out of their way on occasion to honour it. "Right. No, you're right, the microwave is probably a safer bet," she conceded. "Sandy, why don't you come help me."

"Sure. Does anyone want anything to drink while I'm up?"

Kirsten took the opportunity to catch a glimpse of Ryan. He appeared emotionless.

"I'll take a 7&7," Dawn said.

"Mom!" The way Ryan clenched his jaw didn't escape Kirsten's attention

Dawn turned her attention to Ryan. "What? He offered."

Sandy paused at the doorway. "I'll, uh, I'll see what I can do."

Kirsten piled food on plates to heat it up in the microwave. She took a moment to look at Sandy. "So, that's Ryan's mom." Returning to her task, she added, "huh."

Sandy skirted the island and came to her side. "What, what're you thinking?" he said in a hushed voice.

"She's an...interesting woman."

Sandy shook his head. "I've got a better word for her besides interesting. We can't send him back with her. There's no way!"

"Sandy." He was riled up, passionate. Kirsten had always loved this side of him, but not when it involved keeping a boy they barely knew in their house where Seth was easily accessible and liable to be influenced.

"7&7!" he continued, becoming more animated. "She's drunk all ready by the looks of it!"

Kirsten pointed a pair of tongs at him. "Keep your voice down!"

Sandy shook his head. "I just don't have a good feeling about this."

Kirsten sighed. She picked up a plate, opened the microwave door and placed it inside. "She's his mother, Sandy. We've done enough."

"Have we? The second we let him out of this house, his life changes. What kind of opportunities is he going to have with a mother like that? He'll spend the rest of his life taking care of her."

"You don't know that."

"I've seen it enough," he mumbled.

Kirsten took the salad out of the refrigerator and dumped it into a bowl. "Everything you're saying is probably true, but t's not up to us to decide if she's good enough for him."

"We'll maybe it should be!"

Kirsten looked up. She saw the fire in his eyes, the spark that had made her fall in love with him. It made her feel like the bad guy. "Grab some plates."

Kirsten crossed the room, set the salad in the middle of the table and then continued on to the living room. "Everything's ready. Why doesn't everyone come sit down?"

Dawn stood, grabbing her purse from the floor. "Thanks for everything, but Ryan and I can't stay. I have to work the late shift tonight."

"Oh, okay," she said, surprised. Kirsten tried to catch Ryan's eye but he wouldn't look up. Turning her attention to Seth, she realized he was looking at her and his eyes were pleading. She really hated being the bad guy.

Sandy came back into the room. "You're leaving?"

"Dawn has to work," Kirsten supplied.

"Oh. That's...too bad."

Ryan stood. Dawn slung her arm over his shoulder and nudged him against her side. "Let's go grab your stuff, Kiddo."

"Uh, wait. We should exchange addresses. So the boys can stay in touch," he said. Sandy left them. He returned a moment later with a pad of paper and pen. Peeling off the first paper, he handed it to Ryan. "I put the house number, my work number and cell phone. You know, just in case."

"Thanks." Ryan's mouth was tight. He barely opened it wide enough to get the word out.

Seth had remained seated up until that point. Slow to stand, he bypassed Dawn. "See ya, man," he uttered, offering his hand. Ryan accepted and they shook. Kirsten looked past the lingering touch, the way they held on just a little too long. She was doing the right thing, she reminded herself. It was what any mother would do.

* * *

Ryan should have known. She was drunk or, at least, had been drinking. She was always drunk. He didn't know why her behaviour surprised him anymore. He watched as his mother looked at everything in the pool house.

"This is a nice place." She picked up a vase from one of the small tables. "You think this is real crystal?"

Ryan spared a glance at it. He shrugged. "I guess. Probably." Ryan grabbed his duffel bag, pulled his clothes off the shelf and started shoving them into it.

"I went to see your brother the other day."

"Uh-huh." Since he'd returned to the Cohen house, he'd been weighted down with the feeling of dread. He knew sooner or later he was going to have to go back to Chino and that his time at the Cohen house was just a short reprieve before the inevitable. It had been the driving force that made him kiss Seth. And now, with his mother standing six feet away, waiting for him to pack so she could take him back to her miserable life, Ryan felt like his stomach was so twisted up in knots he'd never be able to undo them.

She was still talking. "... He's doing good. The guards said he's staying out of trouble. He wouldn't see me, though. "

Ryan didn't want to know about his brother. He didn't want to know what was going on in his own mother's life, either. It didn't matter to him. It had nothing to do with him. Ryan stopped what he was doing and faced his mother. "Why now?"

"What?" she said, startled.

Ryan dropped the bag onto the bed and approached her. "Why do you want me now? Why do you care _now_?"

Dawn smiled. Ryan felt his stomach roll. "I've always cared. I haven't always been the best mother, but I've changed." Dawn moved closer. She let her hand snake out and touch Ryan's cheek. He recoiled. Dawn let her hand drop to the side. "Look at me, Ry."

Ryan forced his eyes to meet hers. "It's because they have money, isn't it? Got some debts you want them to pay off?"

"Ryan, that's not fair!"

Ryan felt his anger swelling. He couldn't take it any longer. "Screw fair! And screw you!"

Ryan felt the sting of her hand against the side of his face before he had time to move out of the way. His head snapped back. A familiar sensation trickled down his neck.

Ryan stood in shock.

Dawn pointed her finger at him. "Don't you dare talk to me like that! You better adjust your attitude right now; I won't raise another troublemaker."

"You never raised either of us. We took care of ourselves!" he fired back.

"You think you're better than me now, is that it? Found yourself some rich people to take you in and now you think you're at their level?" Her lips trembled with the anger of her words. "Let me tell you something, Kiddo, you'll never be at their level. I saw the way their son was looking at you."

"Just stop it." There was no reason to bring Seth into their family crap.

Dawn snickered. "They don't want you in their house corrupting him. You've always been good at that, haven't you, Ry?"

"I said stop it! Let's just go." Ryan reached down and grabbed the duffel bag from the bed. He started toward the door when Dawn yanked on his arm, pulling him close. Ryan breathed in her stale, sour breath. It made his stomach churn.

"Don't walk away from me! Tell me. Did you lure him into your innocent little trap? Just like with Mike and AJ and that teacher-lady down at the YMCA."

"I didn't... It wasn't my fault. "

Ryan felt tears prick his eyes and willed them not to fall. He hated that she could turn him into a child again with just the simplest of words. She was his mother, she knew how to hurt him the most. She always aimed straight for the heart and never missed.

"You expect me to believe that AJ just decided-"

She'd crossed the line. It was too fucking much. "He raped me!"

Dawn made a disgusted noise. "Stop it, you're not even a girl!"

"What the hell's wrong with you?"

"Don't," she warned.

"Let go." Ryan pulled back his arm with enough force to cause Dawn to stumble back.

"You brat!" she said and slapped him again. It felt like everything was moving in slow motion.

It stung worse than the first one. The throb worked its way through his jaw and settled in deep into the tissue. There was going to a bruise in the shape of her hand print for a week. Ryan cupped his cheek.

* * *

Kirsten, standing in the doorway, took the opportunity to clear her throat. Dawn pivoted around and scoffed. "You see what kind of kid I got?"

Apparently she was under the assumption that they were comrades in a battle with their children. She was wrong.

Her question fell on deaf ears. Kirsten looked past Dawn to Ryan. His head was bowed, his shoulders slumped. Through the gaps between his fingers braced over his cheek, she could see his face was painted an ugly red. Yeah, she saw what kind of kid Dawn had. "Are you okay, Ryan?"

Ryan looked up. He looked terrified. Suddenly Kirsten could see the seventeen-year-old kid that had been hiding from everyone since he'd arrived in her home. Everything was laid out in his eyes: his vulnerability, his fear. She couldn't do it. She couldn't let him go with her. Not when this was how Dawn treated him. She wouldn't sentence him to that kind of life.

"Yeah," Ryan answered, his voice gruff. Underneath the red hand print on his face, his cheeks were stained a darker red from embarrassment.

Kirsten stood straight. Pulling her eyes form Ryan, she looked at Dawn. "I think you'd better leave."

Dawn nodded. "I think you're right. If I'm late for work again, that's it. Come on, Ry."

"He's staying here," Kirsten said, resolute.

Dawns eyes turned cold. "You can't-"

"You touch him again and I'll call the police and have you escorted off the property." Kirsten felt her body shaking from adrenaline. She'd never been a fan of confrontation, but tonight, she would embrace it. Dawn was not leaving with Ryan. No matter what.

"You can't just steal my son!"

"He's not leaving with you." Kirsten wasn't backing down. She wasn't going to let Dawn intimidate her.

It became a stare down. An uncomfortable minute passed before Dawn shifted her eyes to Ryan.

"Keep him. He's useless anyway," she said, sneering, and then turned without a look back, walking out of the pool house.

Kirsten released a breath.

* * *

Ryan looked at Kirsten through his eyelashes. "She didn't mean those things. She gets like that when she's drinking," Ryan muttered, ashamed. It was bad enough she'd read about the abuse he'd had to go through when he was a child, but seeing it for herself was ten times worse.

Kirsten nodded, her eyes sympathetic. "How often does she drink?"

"All the time." Ryan tried to laugh it off but the effort was forced and it sounded hollow.

Kirsten didn't speak again for what felt like a long time. He could feel her looking at him, probably feeling sorry for him and his bruised face and his shitty life. Finally, she sighed. "I'm sorry, Ryan. I was wrong."

"About what?"

"About you."

Ryan flushed, his eyes dropping to examine his shoes. At the rate he was going, his face would never return to normal colour. "No, you weren't."

"Yes. I was." She took a step forward, close enough so he could smell the soft fragrance of her perfume. "I judged you unfairly. And I'm still not okay with everything. I think it will take time before I can really, truly, trust you, but I couldn't let you go with your mother. Do you understand? "

Ryan looked up, squinting at her. "No, not really."

Kirsten attempted a smile. "I'm asking you to stay with us. It's your choice, of course. You'll have to promise you'll stay out of trouble. You'll have to go to school and, and counselling wouldn't be a bad idea, but I won't force you. And you'll have to promise me... you won't do anything that will hurt Seth."

"I wouldn't." Kirsten wasn't like any other woman he'd ever encountered. There was a sense of control about her, like the whole world could come tumbling down and somehow she would know how to repair and rebuild it. There was something else in her eyes, something weathered with understanding and compassion.

She seemed to know what her role was in this family, and that no matter what, she would always be there for them. If she accepted Ryan, even with all his faults, everything else would fall into place.

"I believe you wouldn't." After a minute, she said, "I know you and Seth have...feelings for each other, but I don't want... You're both so young. You have plenty of time. I don't want the two of you to rush into anything again."

"No sex. I know."

Kirsten blinked, flustered. "Ok-ay. Should we tell Seth and Sandy the good news?"

Ryan nodded. Kirsten led the way to the main house with Ryan following behind.

Ryan paused at the doorway. "Kirsten?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm-" Ryan stopped, shook his head to gather his thoughts. "What I said and did to you at your father's party? I didn't mean it."

Kirsten tilted her head to the side. Her eyes were a warn blue when she looked at him, soft, like how she sometimes looked at Seth. "It's okay."

Ryan believed her. Not everything was okay, but it was going to be.

There was so much ugliness in the world...so much ugliness in people, that sometimes Ryan forgot that there could be beauty buried amongst the masses. He'd been so blinded by his fear.

Made a legend out of someone that was, at the barest level, a flawed woman. She..._they, _all the ghosts of his 't hurt him anymore. But they would always be with him. People like Sandy, Kirsten and even Seth, were different. He'd tested them and tested them. There was no ulterior motive, no plan to exploit him. They didn't want to hurt him. They wanted to help.

They couldn't change his past, but they could change his future. So maybe he could be saved after all.

* * *

The End.

Thank you to everyone that stuck with this fic even though I sometimes took forever to update. Heh. There are various reasons I chose to end this here. Mostly, the fic was based on my initial reaction to the Pilot. I could just see these characters a little more flawed and I thought the writers should have worked up to Ryan becoming so 'tame.' The Ryan, Seth and even Kirsten we know evolved a lot post-pilot, so all those things that were hinted at kind of got lost. Dawn has, of course, been embellished significantly to use for my purposes. So this was me writing a harsher reality of how Ryan came to live with the Cohens, but still keeping it along the same lines. If that makes any sense... I also wanted to incorporate various lines from the show and spin a different angle with them. So, Ryan's in the house and anything beyond that would be an entirely different story. I hope you've enjoyed this fic! Thanks again for reading. Your replies have been so awesome! I really appreciate everyone that took the time to write me a review.

Questions? Comments? Complaints? Feel free to e-mail me or leave a review, please. ;)


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